Felix
by totalizzyness
Summary: Q is the youngest Holmes brother; Bond finds out Q's real name. Skyfall/Sherlock crossover - contains Bond/Q, Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Lestrade - FINAL CHAPTER POSTED!
1. Felix

Bond slumped down in what was rapidly becoming his chair in Q's office. Q didn't bat an eyelid, continuing to run system checks on some of the new equipment in development. Being used to being ignored, Bond reached for Q's Scrabble mug, slowly pulling it further and further away from Q. Still not batting an eyelid, Q's hand reached out and pulled the mug back towards him, letting out a quiet, indignant sigh.

"What do you want, Bond?"

"I've been put on temporary leave."

"Why?"

Bond shrugged, slouching back in his chair. "No idea. M summoned me, told me I'm not allowed to do anything and that I have some kind of interview and test with a higher up. If I pass, I'm back on active duty."

Q snorted, his hands still flying over the keys. "Who'd you piss off this time?"

"For once, no one. The last three missions have gone well, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose."

"And I come back, file my report and hide out at yours until i'm wanted again. So unless you made a complaint?"

"Of course not. Even if you do have a tendency to empty my fridge."

James let out a bored sigh, pulling himself out of the chair and going to stand behind Q, Q continuing to ignore him. Bond let out another sigh, draping his arms around the quartermaster's neck.

"I know we're maintaining a professional relationship whilst on duty, but you could at least pretend I exist."

Q smiled. "I'm sorry, double-oh, but these checks need to be done, unless you want your next batch of equipment to blow up in your pocket."

Bond smirked, leaning down to put his face level with Q's. "I'm sure you'd feel the loss more."

"It might actually press me to find a younger, more virile partner."

Bond chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Q's cheek. "But with age comes definition."

"And bad backs."

"Never once have I passed on sex because I have a bad back."

Q looked up, smirking. "Yet."

* * *

Bond spent his down-time lounging around Q's flat, not allowed to step foot in headquarters until his interview, with nothing but Q's fat, lazy cat to keep him company. During his reflection period, he built the tallest sandwich he'd never thought was possible, read through Q's collection Neil Gaiman novels, and planned a siege upon the Granada building to eliminate every guest of the Jeremy Kyle Show.

When Q returned home at night — with bags of shopping, knowing Bond would have eaten everything already — he was subjected to his lover's angry rants about working class people having too much casual sex and how being on leave was the most mind-numbingly boring thing to ever happen to him.

The next day, Bond was woken to his phone vibrating on the bedside table next to him. He blindly grabbed at it, expecting it to be Q with a little insight to what he was creating in Q branch. Instead was the message: **_"A car will arrive to pick you up in 30 minutes. Tie optional."_**from an unknown number. He quickly forwarded the number to Q and took a shower.

Whilst he was drying off, his phone vibrated, this time a text from Q. **_"Number does not exist. Take a gun."_**

Thirty minutes since the first text, Bond went to wait outside, his Walther hidden from plain sight. A black car rolled up onto the curb, the back door opening and a woman climbing out, tapping away at her phone.

"Agent Bond? Get in."

Bond eyed the woman suspiciously. "Or else?"

"We're here to take you to your interview. If you want to work for MI-6 again, you'll get in. And by all means, bring your gun if it makes you feel safer."

Not taking his eyes off her, Bond climbed into the car. The woman didn't seem the type for small talk, or answering questions, so Bond said nothing, staring out of the window, mentally tracking his journey. He knew Q had a GPS tracker on him at all times, so he could activate it in case of an emergency; he just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The car drove all through the city, finally coming to a stop outside a generic-looking office building.

"Fourth floor, the room directly opposite the elevator doors," the woman said, not looking up from her phone. Rolling his eyes, Bond climbed out, marching into the building. There were men dotted around, watching him intently as he walked through the building but never saying a word. Once he stepped off the elevator he was stopped and searched, his gun and phone being taken from him.

"You'll be allowed them back after," the man said, motioning to the door opposite. He quickly knocked, pushing it open when the command was given from inside. Bond was shoved in first, the man following behind. The room was very nondescript; a wooden chair, a desk, and a larger desk chair. Behind the desk was a man, casually looking out of the window, a delicate cup and saucer in his hands. The man walked up to the desk and placed the phone and gun down before marching back out.

"Please, do have a seat," the other man smiled, gently placing his cup and saucer down. Bond began analysing the man as he sat; a smart, tailored, pinstripe suit, three-piece. His hair was short, and he had a solemn look on his face but a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?" Bond asked, straightening out his cuffs.

"My name isn't of importance." The other man opened a drawer from the desk, pulling out a file. Bond noticed his name on the top. Shooting Bond a quick smirk, the man sat, opening the file. "James Bond. Agent Double-Oh-Seven. You've been in the secret service for many years now, gone through many colleagues too, I assume. The newest, I come to understand, is a Felix Holmes — you'd know him as Q-"

"Felix?!"

The man ignored Bond's outburst, reaching out for the gun in front of him. "He made you this gun, I believe. Walther PPK, designed to only arm itself when only you are holding it. Clever boy. Your first assignment with him was the… Skyfall incident, yes?"

Bond nodded curtly.

"And since then you've worked together a many number of times."

"Eight. Officially."

"Yes, I did hear. Tell me, how many missions does 'Q' assist you with unofficially?"

"…Nearly all."

"Out of… personal preference?"

Bond shrugged. "I suppose?"

"Now M has told me all about you. Your weaknesses, your strengths, your tendency to disobey orders and ignore the rules… Now, is one of those rules… Do not have inter-office affairs?"

Bond's eyes widened slightly, his fists clenching in his lap. "What is this about?"

"Oh don't worry, I'm not having you or 'Q' fired, your business is your own, I merely enquire… How long?"

"…Two months."

"And you live with him, do you not?"

"I uh… spend the majority of my time at his place of residence, yes."

The man smirked, picking up his cup again. "What's the name of his cat?"

"…Mayhew. What has this-"

"Is he allergic to anything?"

Bond quirked an eyebrow — this was easily the strangest interview he'd ever had. "Q or the cat?"

"Q, of course."

"He has a mild allergy to eggs, and copper. The cat is allergic to exercise."

The man chuckled, taking a quick sip of his tea. The interview continued, the man asking Bond a litany of questions about his and Q's personal life, being increasingly amused by Bond's answers. Eventually, the man rose from his seat, buttoning up his suit jacket as he moved around the desk. Bond rose from his chair too, taking the man's outstretched hand.

"Very good, James, very good. I approve. You can go back to work first thing tomorrow."

Bond eyed the man suspiciously. "What was this about?"

"Just a quick background check. You passed. You may be on your way, the car will take you back home."

"Wait… Who are you?"

The man grinned, holding out his hand again. "Mycroft Holmes. Lovely to meet you, I do hope Felix brings you home for Christmas, Mummy would so love to meet you."

Bond dumbly shook the man's hand, watching him walk out of the room before grabbing his phone and gun from the table and diving into the elevator. He unlocked his phone and sent a quick text to Q.

**_"You need to come home, we've got some talking to do about my interview… Felix."_**

A few moments later his phone buzzed. _**"It was Mycroft, wasn't it."**_


	2. A Different Kind of Persuasion

It had been several weeks since his meeting with Mycroft and Bond was still comprehending the fact Q had a life outside of MI-6 and his lab, and that his name was Felix. Q had stopped being annoyed when Bond called him by his name in a slightly mocking tone of voice, instead becoming mildly unamused.

It was one of their rare Sunday's off, he and Q lounging around the flat. Bond would sit in his armchair, Mayhew sprawled over his lap sleeping, a book in hand whilst Q took delight in "Mythbusters day" on the Discovery Channel. It was nice and relaxing, explosions only happening on the TV and Mayhew purring quietly, covering Bond in grey hair. A knock on the door interrupted their quiet time, Q huffing out a sigh and pushing his laptop to the side. Bond watched him walk over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open, frowning when his lover's shoulder's slouched.

"Afternoon Mycroft."

Bond smirked, turning back to his book as he heard Q's older brother wander into the flat.

"Afternoon, Felix, not a bad time I hope? Oh James, hello."

"Hello, Mycroft."

"What do you want?" Q sighed, shutting the door, taking Mycroft's jacket and umbrella. Mycroft chuckled, stepping round to the front of the sofa, looking around like it was his first time in Q's flat.

"Have I come at a bad time?"

"Not particularly, but still, what do you want?"

Q walked back over to the sofa, picking up his laptop and sitting down, muting the telly. Mycroft took one last look around before sitting himself.

"I thought I'd come have a talk with my youngest brother. Check in on how he's doing."

"You came to snoop."

"Not at all, I came to talk."

Q sighed, closing the lid of his laptop, giving Mycroft a pointed look. "What's he done?"

Bond looked up. "Who?"

"Our middle brother, Sherlock," Mycroft smirked, pulling a grey hair from his jacket. "He's refusing to visit for Christmas, mother, as you can guess, is distraught."

Q rolled his eyes, standing up to put his laptop away. "And I suppose you want me to go talk to him? He listens to me just as much as he listens to you."

"Now you know that's a lie, Felix. Sherlock couldn't hate anyone more than he hates me; and he actually quite likes you, remember all those wonderful times as children?"

"I remember the time he tried to lobotomise me with a pen."

"Go talk with him, please. For mother. If he says no he says no, but at least we tried. Take your flashy boy-toy, you might perk his interest."

Bond scowled. "Boy-toy?"

Mycroft smiled bitterly. "No offence."

"I'd rather not take James to meet Sherlock, I'd rather he not be subjected to our brother's… quirks. Tea?"

"Oh please. And Sherlock's really calmed down as of late, it seems the Doctor has had a good effect on him."

Mycroft pulled himself from the sofa, following Q to the kitchen. Bond rolled his eyes, putting his book down and looking for ways to shift Mayhew without getting a nasty scratch. With an angry growl, Mayhew leapt from Bond's lap with a sharp shove, and Bond followed the brother's through to the kitchen, brushing the hairs from his lap, wandering in mid-conversation

"Are they even together?"

"Lord knows what their relationship is. Perhaps you could find out. Ah James, fancy a cup?"

"Um, no, I have some scotch. Q, you have another brother?"

Q smiled sadly, reaching into the cupboard behind Mycroft's head, pulling out Bond's scotch and a glass. "Yes, Sherlock. The more difficult of us."

Mycroft chuckled. "When you meet him he may alarm you but that's just his nature. Don't let anything he says upset you, he's not very good with people's emotions and handling them."

"James isn't meeting Sherlock," Q grumbled, passing a glass of scotch to Bond. Bond smirked.

"Why not?"

"Please, don't do this. Drink your scotch and go sit with the cat."

Mycroft laughed, stirring some sugar into his tea. "Now now, Felix, if James wants to meet Sherlock then let him. John will always be there to assist."

Bond looked puzzled again. "John?"

"Sherlock's partner. I would say he's perfectly sane but he seems to actually enjoy the company of our brother so… Who knows, really."

"Partner… Business or romantic?"

Q smirked around his mug, lifting his shoulders into a shrug. "We don't know. They work together, and live together, and they certainly love each other…"

"John insists he's straight, and proves it with failing relationships which barely make it past one date. And Sherlock is an enigma. No one knows his preferences, or even if he has them… He likes John though."

Bond nodded slowly, taking a quick sip of his drink. The three men stood in an awkward silence, sipping at their drinks, sharing awkward looks. Bond caved first, draining his glass and reaching for the bottle.

"I'll go drink with the cat, leave you two to catch up."

* * *

"I can't believe you talked me in to this," Q grumbled, hitting the door knocker to 221b Baker Street against the door. Bond just smiled, his hands tucked neatly in his pockets. There was a shuffling behind the door before it was pulled open by an old lady, her face lighting up at the sight of them.

"Felix! Lovely to see you again! It's been too long!"

Q managed a smile, letting himself be pulled into a hug. "Well, you can blame your tenants for that, Mrs Hudson."

"You hush, I won't hear you say anything against my Sherlock. Anyway, come in, come in. Is this handsome man with you?"

Q finally smiled fully, reaching out to take Bond's arm. "This is James. He's my… well… Yes. He's with me."

Mrs Hudson's smile widened, reaching out to pull him into an embrace. "Wonderful to meet you, James, I'm Mrs Hudson, Sherlock and John's landlady. You two go on up. Would you like some tea? I'm afraid Sherlock's out at the moment, but John's in."

Bond smirked up at Q, following him through the narrow hallway and up the stairs, Mrs Hudson chatting on behind them. When they finally got to the right floor, Q didn't even bother knocking on the door, instead walking straight in.

"We have visitors!" Mrs Hudson called out, ushering Bond further into the room. A shorter man in a wool jumper appeared from the kitchen, grinning and marching up to Q.

"I'd hurry up and leave if I were you, he'll be back any minute."

Q laughed, giving the man the awkward hug and pat on the back combo, before motioning to Bond. "This is James Bond, James, this is Doctor John Watson."

Watson took a few steps towards Bond, offering his hand. "Fantastic to meet you. You know Felix, huh?"

Bond smirked, shaking Watson's hand. "Yes. I know him quite intimately."

"Oh? …Oh! Right. Um, great."

Q rolled his eyes, slipping his coat off and hanging it up. "So, when will he be back?"

"Honestly, any minute. Unless he happened across a corpse on the way home. Why are you here, exactly?"

"Mycroft has set me with the task of getting Sherlock to join us for Christmas. I know this meeting is pointless, but if it'll get Mycroft off my back, then… I'll go help Mrs Hudson with the tea."

Q slipped into the kitchen, leaving John and James smiling awkwardly at each other. John suddenly jumped, motioning to the armchairs.

"Sit, please."

Bond nodded, taking a look around, frowning at the yellow face spray-painted at the wall, and the surrounding bullet-holes. Everything seemed to be dusty, even if it wasn't. Watson sat in the opposite armchair, casually looking around the room. The silence dragged on, until there was suddenly a door slamming shut downstairs and the sound of footsteps coming closer.

"He's here," John mumbled, shuffling back in his chair. A tall man burst through into the living room, his black coat swishing behind him. He came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Bond, slowly beginning to take off his scarf.

"New case?"

"Nope. This is James. Your new case is in the kitchen."

The man eyed Bond suspiciously as he edged towards the kitchen, sighing loudly and throwing his scarf on to the back of John's chair. John chuckled, turning in his seat.

"I knew he'd make you talk to me, why must you and Mycroft always gang up on me?"

Q rolled his eyes, marching out of the kitchen, two cups of tea in his hand. "It's hardly ganging up, Sherlock. And perhaps if you weren't so difficult I wouldn't have to be here."

Sherlock eyed his brother suspiciously, occasionally flicking towards Bond as Q perched himself on the arm of his chair, passing him one of the cups. "I'm not being difficult, Felix, I simply don't wish to spend the holidays with our family. I still can't understand why you would want to."

"It makes mother happy, and if mother's happy she's not phoning me up constantly."

"Anyway who's this? This backup you've brought."

Q snorted, taking a quick sip of his tea. "This is James Bond. Orphaned at eleven, ex-Navy Commander, current double-oh agent for MI-6. Does suffer from P-T-S-D though reluctant to admit it, he is — or was — prone to a string of affairs with women on missions that never went past sex and yes, we are sleeping together. Before you do any of that analysing crap you do."

John smirked around his own cup of tea, whilst Bond and Sherlock gawked awkwardly at Q. Sherlock finally scoffed, folding his arms defiantly over his chest.

"I can go into much more detail than that."

"Please don't. I'll tell Mycroft you decline the offer of Christmas; we'll just finish our tea and be on our way."

"Now now, let's not be hasty, little brother. I may yet change my mind on Christmas… Will James be going?"

Everyone turned to look at Bond, who still had a slight look of bewilderment. Bond shrugged, looking up at Q.

"There's just three of you? No more crazy brothers I need to know of?"

Q smirked. "Just us, and mother."

"Fine, I'll go."

Sherlock nodded, leaning against Watson's chair. "So how long have you two been… seeing each other?"

"A few months."

"And you work together?"

"We do."

"It's not awkward?"

"No."

"No worrying about if he'll come home from a mission alive?"

"Every time."

John and James shared a bored look, sipping quietly at their tea whilst the brothers sniped questions and answers at each other.

"I'm not telling you any more, Sherlock. If you wish to get to know James you can do so with the rest of the family at Christmas. I assume you'll be coming too, John?"

John shrugged. "Probably. I suppose James here could use a friendly face when you three start on each other."

"Well, it's about time you met mother, Mycroft has been telling her all about you."

"What has he been saying?"

Q smirked, finished his tea and placing it down on the table. "Just the usual."

"Oh for God's sake, I'm not gay!"

"Do be quiet, John," Sherlock snapped, marching into the kitchen. Q shot Bond a quick smirk, following his brother into the kitchen. Bond and Watson fell into another awkward silence as they tried to listen to what was being said in the kitchen.

"So… MI-6, huh?"

Bond nodded, drumming his fingers on his thigh. "Yeah."

"How long have you been with them?"

Bond shrugged. "A long time… I don't know any more."

"Dangerous?"

"Extremely."

Watson nodded, playing with the handle of his mug for something to focus on. Q suddenly marched from the kitchen, grabbing his coat.

"Come along, Bond. John, it was a pleasure, we'll see you at Christmas."

Bond hurried to grab his coat and awkwardly shake hands with Watson, debating between shaking hands with Sherlock too. Sherlock suddenly stuck out his hand, a blank stare on his face.

"I'll be seeing you again soon, Mr Bond. Take care."

Bond nodded, quickly taking his hand from Sherlocks. "You too. Goodbye."

Q hurried Bond down the stairs, shouting a quick goodbye to Mrs Hudson before they bundled out, back onto the street. Bond draped his arm over Q's shoulder, pulling him into his chest as they began walking.

"So is it just a family trait of yours? To be bloody weird?"

Q chuckled, snaking his arm around Bond's waist. "No. We're all vastly intelligent with a number of social problems. Sherlock for example is a high functioning sociopath."

"Oh… What about you?"

"I'm just awkward."


	3. Holidays - Part 1

The Holmes family mansion was just as James expected it would be; smaller than his own family home, but very large nonetheless. The gardens were green and well-kept, and the stone of the house was obviously old but very well maintained. The whole place reeked of old money. He pulled the car up outside the large wooden doors, just as a young man slipped out in a sharp suit, marching over. He pulled open Q's door, smiling politely.

"Master Holmes."

Q smiled, patting the man on the shoulder. "Nice to see you again, Will."

'Will' smiled even wider, turning to Bond who'd just climbed out of his side. "Would sir like me to park his car?"

Bond looked to Q, who just nodded. Bond shrugged, tossing the keys over and making his way around. Another man in a suit was making his way down the steps, over to the couple. Q grinned, walking over to embrace the older man.

"Stanley!"

"Young Felix, how are we?"

"Very good, this is my partner, James Bond."

Bond smiled politely, offering his hand for the man to shake. Stanley smiled, shaking it firmly before turning back to Q.

"Your mother is waiting for you in the parlour, Will and I shall take your bags up to your room."

"Thank you. Come along, James."

James followed Q into the house, letting him take his coat and hang it by the door. The house was just as grand inside as it was outside, very rich coloured drapes and carpets, expensive hardwood flooring. Q led Bond through the house until they reached the parlour; a wide, bright room, full of expensive looking furniture and one wall of windows. A woman was sat at a table, staring out of the window, stirring her tea, almost wistfully.

"Good afternoon, mother."

The woman spun around, a large smile spread across her face as she pulled herself from her seat. She looked a lot younger than she was; her loose blonde curls bouncing as she made her way towards them, blue eyes wide and happy as she enveloped Q into a hug, making quiet happy noises.

"Lovely to have you home, Felix, it's been much too long… And is this James? Mycroft said you'd be bringing someone."

Q smiled as he pulled away, motioning to Bond. "Yes, this is James Bond."

Mrs Holmes reached out, gripping Bond's chin between her long fingers, pulling his face this way and that to get a good look at him. "My, he's handsome, isn't he."

Q blushed slightly, smiling shyly at Bond, who just smirked back. "He is."

"A very defined look about him. Nice suit, neat hair — unlike yours, when are you getting it cut, Felix?"

"I'll have it cut when I get back to London," Q sighed. "You've yet to see Sherlock's hair, though."

"I'll tell him off when he gets here. Now, James, tell me, what do you do?"

Mrs Holmes hooked her arm through Bond's leading him over to the table, sitting him beside her and pouring a cup of tea. Q smiled, watching Bond blossom under his mother's positive attention, feeding her all the right lines. Letting out a content sigh, he wandered over to the table himself, sitting and pouring some tea. His mother continued to bombard James with questions about his work and Q, and he continued to appease her with the right answers, not letting her know how dangerous his job truly was. Obviously not a part of the conversation, Q pulled his phone from his pocket, typing up some of the things that had been on his mind on the drive up.

"Felix, none of your gadgets at the table, please."

Q sighed, rolling his eyes going to put the phone back in his pocket, planning on pulling it out again after five minutes, but concealing it under the table. Before he could, Bond snatched it from his hand, sliding the back open and taking the battery, handing the phone back to Q.

"He'll just be on it again in five minutes," Bond smiled. Mrs Holmes laughed, gently resting her hand on Bond's arm. Q huffed quietly, folding his arms over his chest, watching his boyfriend quickly become the favourite.

It was just before tea-time that Sherlock and John arrived, squabbling down the corridor to the parlour. Mrs Holmes stood, ready to greet them when they entered. Q discreetly tried to lift his battery from Bond's pocket whilst he watched Sherlock be showered in affection, but to no avail. Bond's strong hand wrapped around his wrist.

"If I have to deal with your family, you can too."

Q glared. "I've had to deal with them for twenty-four years. Five days isn't going to kill you."

Bond stood, pulling Q with him as they made their way over to Sherlock and John, John currently being given a tight hug from Mrs Holmes. Sherlock gave Q and Bond an icy stare.

"Felix. James."

Q smirked, amused by Sherlock's obvious discomfort at being home. "Nice of you to make it, Sherlock."

"Well, I wouldn't miss this for the world. Mummy ignoring us in favour of our guests, it may actually be the most agreeable Christmas yet. Mycroft's bringing someone, did he mention?"

"No he didn't."

"He wouldn't tell me who."

"What, and you couldn't deduce who it was?"

Sherlock shifted uneasily. "He told me in a text. Not much I can deduce from a text, Felix."

"No, no, we just live together!"

Everyone turned to look at John, who was a little red in the face. Mrs Holmes just smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"This isn't the 50's any more, John, there's no shame in it. I'm certainly not bothered; look, Felix brought his darling boyfriend!"

John let out a long sigh. "I know there's no shame but… I'm not… We're not!"

"Oh, you can't fool me."

"It's easier to just agree with her," Q smirked, slipping his hand into Bond's. John sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. Sherlock suddenly snapped his fingers, spinning on his heel.

"Fresh pot of tea please, Stanley; come along John."

Mrs Holmes sighed as John extracted himself from her grip, following Sherlock to the table. Q gave his mother a sad smile.

"He's still an arse, mother."

Mrs Holmes tutted, shooting her youngest an disapproving look. "Language Felix. But yes; still an arse. Takes after his father, God rest his soul."

"Mycroft's not improved either."

"And you're still an insufferable know-it-all, I presume?"

"Oh the worst," Bond laughed, slinging his arm around Q's shoulders. Mrs Holmes smiled brilliantly, hooking her arm through Bond's again.

"You, Mr Bond, are very charming. I do hope Felix decides to keep you."

* * *

James sat with John in the corner, drinking tea quietly whilst Mrs Holmes spoke with her sons, chuckling when they heard either of them being chastised.

"So what's yours like?"

Bond looked up at John curiously. "Excuse me?"

"Your Holmes; Felix. I've only met him a handful of times."

Bond shrugged, looking down into his tea. "He's… smart. I mean, I'm smart but he's-"

"Genius. They're all genius'."

"He's very snarky-"

"So's Sherlock."

"He's… a solitary creature really."

"You get the feeling he's just letting you be around him out of the goodness of his heart?"

Bond nodded, letting out a quiet hum. "Tell me, John; are you sure you're not involved with Sherlock?"

"No. We're not. I'm not gay and he's not… anything. I mean, even if I wanted to — which I don't, but if I did… he wouldn't. The first time we met he told me he considered himself to his work."

"I consider myself married to my work. So does Q."

John frowned. "Q is… Felix?"

"Yes, his work title; code-name."

"Oh… So how do you and he manage? I mean, you must have long work hours? Dangerous missions?"

Bond let out a sigh, taking a sip of his tea. "To use a cliché we just take it one day at a time. I'm not sure how we make things work, but we do…"

John smiled sadly. "I suppose it makes you appreciate each day you're together."

"We do… So… Tell me about Sherlock. What does he do?"

"He's a consulting detective. A freelance. He hires out his services a genius who solves crimes, to explain it on its simplest level."

"Ah. And you? You help him?"

"Sometimes. He needs a doctor sometimes to help diagnose."

The two sat discussing themselves and their lives with their respective Holmes; how infuriating they could be, their bad habits, and their first meeting with Mycroft.

"He kidnapped you?!" Bond laughed, putting his tea on the table to stop him spilling it over his trousers.

"Took me to a warehouse, offered me money to spy on him and report back."

"And you didn't?"

"Well obviously I regret it now, it was a lot of money" John laughed. "But at the time, living with Sherlock, being his partner, it was all very exciting, and I needed excitement. And I didn't really want to betray him…"

"And now, not so much?"

"Tell you what, you live with Sherlock for a week, you might just appreciate the fact you got the normal one."

"Normal my arse."

John chuckled. "Compared to Sherlock and Mycroft? Most definitely."

* * *

Staying with the Holmes' wasn't too strange for Bond to handle, aside from waking up to Sherlock's face in his own — Sherlock was lucky Bond didn't have a gun within reach. Bond sat up in bed, breathing heavy and clutching his chest, Sherlock cocked his head to the side, staring at Bond analytically.

"I was wondering why you favoured your left side, a bullet wound to the right shoulder was my second guess."

Bond glared, rubbing a hand over his face. "What the bloody Hell is wrong with you?!"

Q lifted his head sleepily, glancing over to Sherlock through heavy eyelids. "Sherlock, be a dear and fuck off."

Sherlock huffed indignantly, standing up straight. "Rude," he grumbled, before walking out of the room. Q let out a quiet snort, reaching over to grab Bond's arm and draping it over his waist.

"Come back to sleep."

"Five more minutes," Bond mumbled, trying to get comfy again. Despite Q's soft breathing and steady heart-beat, Bond found it hard to get back to sleep, fearing Sherlock would sneak into the room and invade his privacy, taking swabs of his feet or something equally horrifying. After he was sure Q was heavily asleep, he carefully extracted himself from the bed and shuffled through to the bathroom; not expecting to find Sherlock staring at his bottle of aftershave.

"Oh for God's sake."

Sherlock looked up, looking as if he belonged completely in Q's private bathroom. "You do know this contains corrosive chemicals? No wonder your skin looks so worn."

Ignoring him, Bond snatched the aftershave from the detective's fingers and grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him from the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Rude!"

Bond rolled his eyes and got himself ready for the day, wondering how John possibly lives with the madman. Dressed and feeling a little more awake, Bond made his way downstairs, unimpressed that Sherlock was the first person he ran in to.

"Breakfast is held in the kitchen, down that corridor," Sherlock said, his eyes narrowing. "You heeded my warning and are wearing less aftershave."

Bond rolled his eyes, beginning to walk to where Sherlock had said the kitchen was. "I just didn't see the need to tart up, it's only breakfast."

"Mummy very much likes you, you know," Sherlock continued, walking in step with Bond. James nodded.

"Well that's good."

"You didn't tell her your official position within MI-6. She thinks you're just another desk jockey."

Bond shrugged. "Does she need to know that I'm going getting myself shot at by various terrorists in various countries?"

"I'm sure she'd like to know just what her youngest has gotten himself involved in. She worries."

"Felix is a big boy."

Sherlock's lips twisted into what Bond assumed was supposed to be a smirk. "You still don't take his name seriously. You don't call him Felix at home, do you."

"Code-names are assigned for a reason."

"By not calling him by his given name, you're disassociating him with any life he may have outside of MI-6 and you. You don't like the idea he has a separate life."

Bond rolled his eyes. "It's for his safety. People find out he's Felix Holmes, they find out he has two brothers, they find out he has a mother. Or as they're more likely to see it, leverage. We take people's safety very seriously at MI-6, especially someone as important as Q."

"Felix."

Bond glared. "Q. People like Q are indispensable, we need him."

"I always knew his smarts were going to get him trouble."

"You don't like me, do you Sherlock?"

Sherlock shrugged, pushing the kitchen door open. "Don't take it personal, I don't like anyone."

"You like John."

"John's likeable. He's interesting"

Bond smirked. "So am I. You don't think I'm good enough for Q."

"You don't even call him by his name, of course I don't… Neither does Mycroft, by the way. He'll never say anything, though, he knows how much you mean to Felix."

"So why can't you stick your nose out? It's not like you ever see each other."

"Are you accusing me of not caring? About my own brother?"

"You tried to lobotomise him."

"I was thirteen."

They stood sharing angry looks, fists clenched at their sides when someone else entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, boys, lovely day outside."

Sherlock's face instantly dissolved into a smile as he went to greet his mother; Bond smirked, watching how quickly Sherlock could slip on the charm, just like him. Mrs Holmes greeted James too, before guiding both men to the kitchen table.

"Mycroft's arriving today. Have you met Mycroft, James?"

Bond nodded, helping himself to some coffee. "I have."

"Wonderful, isn't he."

"Positively charming, a genetic trait I see."

Mrs Bond laughed, resting her hand on James' arm. "Oh James!"

Bond smirked, winking at Sherlock when he noticed the detective was glaring daggers at him. Sherlock cleared his throat, reaching out to take his mother's wrist to get her attention.

"So Mummy, what do you think of John?"

"Oh he's lovely, Sherlock. And a doctor, you're very lucky to have found him."

Sherlock smiled sweetly. "I am. Did I mention he fought in the war? He was an army doctor."

Mrs Bond gasped, a wide smile on her face. "How brave!"

Sherlock shot James a smug grin; Bond rolled his eyes, not too bothered about competing with Sherlock for "most impressive boyfriend". Mrs Holmes quickly pulled herself up, shuffling over to grab the teapot.

"At what point are you going to tell her you and John aren't actually seeing each other?"

Sherlock glared. "Shut up, Bond. It's none of your business."

"Lying to your own dear mother, shameful."

"You lie to her."

"She's not my mother."

"What are we talking about?" Mrs Holmes smiled, sitting herself back down. Bond smiled back, standing up.

"Nothing important. I'm going to wake Felix, I'll get in trouble if I don't wake him before ten."

Mrs Holmes smiled, turning back to Sherlock as Bond wandered out of the kitchen, back up the room he was sharing with Q. He plopped himself down on the bed, the force of it rocking the bed and waking Q. He groaned, lifting his head and running a sleepy hand through his hair.

"James?"

"You were right, Sherlock is a complete arse."

Q smirked, shuffling over and collapsing down across Bond's chest. "I told you. What's he said?"

"He doesn't like me."

"He doesn't like anyone."

"He doesn't think I'm good enough for you."

Q yawned, snaking his arms around Bond's waist. "Neither does Mycroft. He won't tell me but he thinks I don't know him after all this time? I don't care what they think, James. For a while Sherlock refused to speak to me for taking the job at MI-6; Mycroft tried to talk me out of it. They're fickle. They'll never like any lover of mine."

James nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Q's head. "Did you know Sherlock is actually the one telling your mother he and John are in a relationship?"

Q snorted out a laugh, lifting his head. "Really? Someone should really tell John."

"I'd be honoured to be the one to break the news."

"We told you not to take anything Sherlock says to heart."

Bond shrugged. "I'm not… He's still a twat."

"Oh most definitely. He'll only get worse when Mycroft gets here."

* * *

Mycroft didn't arrive until late afternoon, alone. He embraced his mother, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before giving both Q and Sherlock a pat on the back and a stiff smile.

"I'm sorry I'm so late, some work came up. And speaking of work, my guest won't arrive until tomorrow, couldn't get out of work early."

Sherlock folded his arms over his chest. "And you couldn't pull strings?"

"One day won't hurt, Sherlock. Some people have real jobs."

"I have a real job."

"Oh please, consulting detective, it hardly pays the bills!"

"The bills are paid, thank you very much."

Q gave James an "I told you so" look, taking his arm and leading him through to the parlour. He, James and John sat on the sofa, watching Mycroft and Sherlock squabble whilst Mrs Holmes organised some tea.

"Are they really always like this?" James asked, staring blankly at the brothers.

"Definitely," Q and John said in unison, already bored by the argument. Mrs Holmes finally placed the tray of tea on the table between the sofas, pushing her hands into her hips.

"Boys, that's enough of that, please! Mycroft, come sit here with me, tell me everything you've been up to."

Mycroft sat next to his mother, taking her hands in his as he began telling her about the drive up. Sherlock looked at the sofa where the other three men were sat, glaring at the lack of space for him to sit. Bond smirked, grabbing Q by his hips and pulling him onto his lap with a quiet yelp of surprise from the smaller man.

"There you go."

Still glaring, Sherlock sat in the vacated space. "How tactful of you."

"You can sit on the floor if you like," John chastised. Sherlock rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, diverting his glare over to his older brother.

"You could have warned me," Q mumbled, resting his head against Bond's. James smiled, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Q's neck.

"But then I wouldn't have heard that lovely noise you made."

Sherlock scoffed next to him. "Save it for the bedroom, please."

* * *

For the rest of the day, Bond tried his best to avoid Sherlock, sequestering himself away in corners with Q or John, only coming out when Mrs Holmes insisted he go talk with her. Dinners were awkward, Sherlock sniping with anyone that opened their mouth. His stay was quickly transforming his opinions on Q, thankful that as bad as he ever got, he'd never be as bad as his brother. At least Q only snarked at him when he deserved it, and he never used his intelligence to make him feel like an idiot. He also began to feel incredibly sorry for John.

"How do you live with him? Honestly?"

John laughed into his drink, shrugging his shoulders. "I suppose he's not really that bad. You get used to him. And he just doesn't like you. Plus family gatherings stress him out."

James gave John a blank stare, unamused. "Not that bad? Really?"

"Most of the time he just tells me to shut up, nothing like he's doing to you. He's not that hard to live with. Just make sure he's entertained. I think he's just bored, really."

"And how does one entertain Sherlock?"

"Finding him a suspicious dead body usually does the trick. He has a collection of mould samples… in the fridge."

Bond's eyes widened. "Excuse me, in the fridge?! And you live with him?!"

"Trust me, it's a one up from the severed head."

"…Mycroft was right, you're not sane at all."

John laughed, giving James a pat on the shoulder. "You get used to it."

Their conversation was interrupted by Sherlock storming over, grabbing John by the arm and dragging him away, offering no explanation as to why. Smirking, James made his way over to where Q was explaining aspects of his job to his mother and Mycroft, slipping his arm around his waist. Q shot him a quick smile, continuing explaining.

"So this guest of yours, Mycroft, are they a… romantic partner?" Mrs Holmes asked once Q had finished. A slight flush of pink filled Mycroft's cheeks as he nodded.

"Yes. I suppose it's early days yet, but things are going well."

Q smirked. "Well done, Mycroft. Someone who can put up with you for long periods of time?"

"Do be quiet, Felix."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'll go share the good news with Sherlock."

Q made a move to go over to where Sherlock was stood glaring at the room before Mycroft grabbed his arm.

"Don't you dare."

"Boys," Mrs Holmes warned. Both Holmes' muttered an apology and looked at their feet.


	4. Holidays - Part 2

On Christmas Eve, Mrs Holmes had a party planned, eager to show off how grown up her boys were and the lovely men they had on their arms. Bundled up in his wool coat and scarf, Bond took a walk around the grounds with Q to avoid Sherlock. Despite his many layers of a cardigan, jumper, and coat, including gloves and a scarf, Q was still shivering on his arm, teeth chattering every now and then.

"You didn't have to join me," James smiled, stopping walking to wrap his arms around Q. Q just smiled up at him, huddling up to his lover.

"Didn't want you to get lost. Didn't want to have to send Sherlock after you."

"How is he in social situations?"

"Bloody awful. But at least there will be other people for him to irritate. I think Mother intends on showing you off the most, you know, working for MI-6, you're all posh and distinguished… No offence to John at all but… You're better than him."

Bond laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of Q's head. "You're sure this isn't just your favouritism?"

"Not at all. John has a very wonderful taste in knitwear."

"But a very bad taste in men."

"Most certainly."

Bond pulled Q's face up to look at him, smiling at his rosy cheeks and red nose. Q smiled up at him, circling his arms around Bond's torso, pulling him closer.

"You're so wonderful," Bond murmured, his nose brushing against Q's. Q's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, his eyes looking anywhere but at Bond's.

"No need to flatter me, Bond, I'm already in love with you."

Bond smiled widely, brushing his thumb against Q's cheek. "I'm in love with you too."

"That's… That's good to know."

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Bond pulled Q's face closer, capturing his lips with his own. Q hummed happily, fisting his gloved hands in James' coat. Bond smiled into the kiss, holding Q closer against his body, their lips moving together, Bond's tongue licking at the seam of Q's lips.

"Must you do that where everyone can see?!"

Q and Bond pulled away, looking towards the house. Even from where they were stood they could see Sherlock had a very unhappy look on his face, his arms folded over his chest as he glared from a first-storey balcony.

"Why don't you go away then?!" Bond shouted back.

"I live here, you insufferable prat!"

Q sighed, pulling away from Bond. "Come on, he's not going to leave."

Bond sighed too, taking Q's hand and leading him back up to the house. "The sooner he and John start shagging the better."

Q laughed, leaning in to Bond, forcing him to drape his arm over his shoulders instead. "You think Sherlock's only shouting at us because he's frustrated?"

"Of course, you see it all the time in normal people. He thinks he's a third wheel to our relationship, when really if he just looked around he'd notice John's there ready and waiting."

"But John's not gay."

"He can say what he wants, the truth is he really wants to get in Sherlock's pants. I read people for a living Q, I can see this stuff a mile away."

"Perhaps we should get them drunk tonight. Strategically place mistletoe around the place."

Bond smiled, pressing his face into Q's messy hair. "Sounds like a plan."

Inside the house, the place was chaos. Caterers were running around, decorators were running round, there was suddenly a massive Christmas tree in the lobby with people decorating it. Mrs Holmes was stood in front of the tree, shouting orders at the people decorating, only stopping to sign clipboards men thrust at her. She grinned when she saw Q and Bond motioning them over.

"What do you think of the tree, darlings?"

Q smiled, wrapping his scarf around his hand. "Bigger than last year, have we got enough tinsel?"

"Of course, we bought boxes of it."

"Mother, do we have any mistletoe?"

Mrs Holmes stopped grinning at the tree and turned to her youngest. "I'm sure we do, what do you need it for?"

"Coercion, mainly. James and I wish to give Sherlock and John a reason to kiss in front of us all."

Mrs Holmes hummed happily. "Of course, dear. I wish they were more forthcoming with their relationship. Go find Stanley, I'm sure he'll find it for you."

Bond smirked, following Q up to their room to shed their winter-wear. Q dropped himself down on the edge of the bed, staring up at Bond as he fixed his shirt cuffs. Bond smiled back, straightening his clothes before stepping forward between Q's thighs.

"We're finally alone," he smirked, pushing gently on Q's shoulders. Q smirked, letting himself be pushed down to the bed.

"For now. Once Sherlock realises we're here you can guarantee he'll interrupt."

"Let's make the most of this then."

Bond crawled on top of him, pushing their lips together messily, wasting no time in sliding his chilled hand up Q's shirt. Q moaned, trying to arch his body away from Bond's cold touch. Bond smirked, reaching up to pull Q's glasses from his face with his other hand, placing them carefully well away from them on the bed. They kissing quickly heated up, both men eager to peel the other from their clothing.

* * *

Having located Stanley and the mistletoe, Bond and Q stood in the middle of the hall where the party was being held, deciding on where it should be stuck. Whilst pointing out corners Sherlock might hide out in later on, Sherlock marched into the hall, straight over to the couple. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, looking over the two sceptically.

"You had sex," he said, folding his arms over his chest. Q rolled his eyes, turning back to the corner he'd been looking at.

"It's no business of yours what James and I get up to."

"You had sex! With Mummy just downstairs!"

"I'm not getting into this with you, Sherlock."

Sherlock glared. "I find it hard to digest that you would do such a thing."

"Perhaps if you had a sex-life of your own you wouldn't be so jealous of mine. Now did you actually have something to say?"

Sherlock just scoffed and stormed away; James snorted, slipping his arms around Q's waist.

"I hope this plan works, or else your brother's going to explode."

"I know. I bet you he's gone to tell on me. Probably to Mycroft, I can't see mother being too horrified."

"Really?"

Q shrugged, slipping from James' grip and walking over to the corner. Bond smirked, trailing after him, trying not to bump into any of the decorators rushing around. A few moments later, John wandered into the hall, looking around before spotting Bond and Q, walking over.

"Sherlock requested I tell you that your mother wishes to hold a quick meet and greet before the party. To introduce everybody important… Also, what did you do to him?"

"We had sex," James sighed, sitting himself down in one of the chairs pushed to the side. John stared between them before shrugging.

"Okay then… Wait, you had sex here?"

"In our room, we're not perverts," Q said, looking around the room some more.

"But here, in the house?"

James frowned, steepling his fingers. "Shouldn't we have?"

"Well no, it's just… With all these people around?"

"Is it really a problem? We're not idiots, we know how to not get caught."

"Yes, of course. Sorry, it's none of my business really… I'll be going."

John quickly turned on his heel and hurried from the hall, James looked up at Q curiously, a hint of a smirk on his lips. Q rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, I can't say I was expecting that."

Bond chuckled, reaching out to take Q's hands, pulling him closer. "It'll be forgotten soon. Have you decided where to hang the mistletoe?"

Q nodded, pulling Bond to his feet, excitedly beginning to explain his plans. James just smiled, slipping an arm around Q's waist, watching all of his facial expressions and nervous movements.

An hour before the party started, Mrs Holmes had everyone gathered in the parlour to go over party etiquette, scowling at Sherlock in particular. Bond just smiled contently, already knowing how to work the crowd of any party, rubbing his thumb across the pulse-point of Q's wrist. Stanley suddenly appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. Mrs Holmes stopped talking smiling over at him.

"Yes?"

"Mycroft's guest has arrived, Ma'am."

Mrs Holmes grinned, jumping to her feet. "Marvellous! Show him in!"

Mycroft had a nervous edge to him as he pulled himself up from his seat, slowly making his way to the door. Footsteps could be heard coming closer, Stanley held the door open as Mycroft's guest walked in.

"Lestrade?!"

Everyone looked over to John and Sherlock, and the horrified looks on their faces. Lestrade smiled sheepishly, giving the two men a shy wave.

"Hello boys."

Mrs Holmes' grin grew even wider. "You know each other?!"

"He's a D.I. in Scotland Yard, they frequently hire Sherlock and John for some of their cases," Mycroft explained.

"A policeman, wonderful!"

Sherlock marched up to where Lestrade stood awkwardly, staring at him analytically. "What are you doing here, Lestrade?"

"Mycroft invited me."

"Yes but why? It's not as if you're of any importance to him."

"On the contrary," Mycroft interjected, stepping closer to Lestrade, gently curling his fingers around his wrist. "Gregory and I have been seeing each other for some time."

John finally pulled himself up, going to stand beside Sherlock. "Wait, you're seeing Mycroft?! Why didn't you say?! How did you even meet?!"

Q and Bond sat back, watching everything in front of them, a little confused. Lestrade shrugged, a sheepish grin still on his face.

"I couldn't really find a way to tell you, I always thought I'd leave it up to Mycroft. And we met somewhat… unconventionally."

"He kidnapped you, didn't he," John sighed. Lestrade nodded, sending a little smirk Mycroft's way.

"He wanted to know the extent of my involvement with Sherlock and then… asked me to dinner."

"And you said yes to this maniac?!" Sherlock demanded.

"Now steady on, Sherlock, he's not that bad."

"My brother kidnaps you and you agree to dinner with him?! And you wonder why I constantly question your incompetence?!"

Mrs Holmes sighed, giving Lestrade a small pat on the shoulder before tottering over to Q and Bond, perching herself on the edge of the sofa. "Let's leave them to it, shall we?"

"Hold on a minute, I thought you were married!" John said, folding his arms over his chest, mirroring Sherlock's stance. Lestrade shrugged.

"We split."

"And you're suddenly… gay?!"

"Oh everything's always so black and white with you, John. Obviously Lestrade had some latent homosexual qualities to him and it took my brother to bring them out," Sherlock snapped. "It's all very common. Take James for example, straight man turned gay at the sight of Felix!"

Bond's head snapped up, glaring over in Sherlock's direction. "When did I ever hint at being straight?!"

"Shut up! As for you, Watson, everyone knows you're not as straight as you make out you are. Now if you'll excuse me, this has gotten very boring."

Sherlock stomped out of the room, leaving everyone in a dazed silence. Mrs Holmes pulled herself up, tutting quietly.

"He'll be sulking in his bedroom, I'll go see to him. Mycroft, introduce your wonderful gentleman to your other brother, won't you?"

Mycroft forced a smile, nodding. "Of course, Mummy. Gregory, this is Felix, the youngest of Sherlock and I. And his gentleman lover, James Bond."

Felix and James stood up to greet Lestrade, shaking his hand. Greg smiled politely, taking a quick look around.

"Mycroft never mentioned he had another brother, then again after Sherlock I can see why he wouldn't like to admit to having more family."

Q chuckled humourlessly, leaning into James. "I'm not as bad as Sherlock, I assure you. And I don't see much of my brothers, I probably slipped his mind."

"So… What do you do?"

"We both — James and I — work for MI-6. It's all very top secret, there's not much we can tell you, I'm afraid."

Lestrade's eyes widened, a small grin appearing on his face. "MI-6?! Wow! Like, spies and that sort of thing?!"

Q nodded, smirking up at Bond. Mycroft huffed out a dramatic sigh.

"Stop showing off, Felix. MI-6 isn't that impressive."

"Don't worry about me stealing your boyfriend, Mycroft. I'm not swapping James for anyone."

Lestrade turned to Mycroft, frowning slightly. "MI-6 isn't that impressive?! Didn't you hear about the incident where their headquarters blew up?!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am a member of the Government, Gregory, I hear about these things."

"It was some ex spy, wasn't it? Angry at the head of your organisation for something… Not that I should know but… sometimes these things get out."

Bond's lips thinned, trying not to get annoyed at the mention of that particular case. "Yes, well. I got him in the end."

Lestrade's eyes widened. "That was you?! You're a spy?!"

"Yes. Agent double-oh-seven. I was assigned that particular case. In fact it was the first Q and I worked together."

"…Who's Q?"

"I'm Q," Q smiled. "It stands for Quartermaster. I'm in charge of technology, weapons, vehicles, that kind of thing. I made him a gun and he fed it to a komodo dragon."

"I didn't mean to," Bond sighed. Mycroft began tugging on Lestrade's arm, trying to pull him away.

"Come on, it's about time we got ready for the party. You did bring your suit?"

Lestrade sighed, letting himself be pulled away. "Of course I did."

Q smirked up at Bond, slipping his arms around his waist. "Well, I think he's thoroughly impressed."

"It's just your brothers I appear to be incapable of impressing."

"Sod what they think. I love you, Mother loves you, everyone else will love you."

Bond smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to Q's lips. "Anyway, your brother raises an excellent point. Shall we go get ready?"

"Yes, it may take me some time to get my suit on. It's been a while."

Bond and Q hurried up to their room, less than an hour to get ready. Under the pretence of saving time and water, they showered together, inadvertently taking twice as long as they would if they'd showered individually, too busy trailing fingers over wet skin, and kissing until their mouths filled from the water falling around them. Once they'd stumbled out of the shower and gotten dry, they set about getting dressed.

Their suits were hung up in the wardrobe; simple black numbers, tailored to perfection, as James wouldn't have it any other way. Bond slipped on his shirt and then trousers, tucking the shirt in neatly, hardly rumpling it at all, before picking up his waistcoat. Q watched him intently, always having loved watching Bond get dressed into his suits.

"Come on, Q. Don't want to be late."

Q nodded, hastily pulling on his trousers and shirt, pausing to watch Bond smooth out the fabric of his waistcoat, checking there were no creases. He was soon dressed before Q had finished buttoning his shirt. Smiling adoringly, he stepped up to Q, helping him get dressed; clicking his suspenders into place, tying his bow-tie whilst Q buttoned his waistcoat.

"All this fuss. Seems so silly."

Bond smiled, flattening down Q's collar. "It's a party, Q, and people dress up for parties."

"It's all so much. I always hated mother's parties."

"If it's any consolation you look simply… delectable. If we had the time I'd have you on that bed right now."

Q blushed, looking around for his jacket. "Honestly, James, you need to start thinking more with your upstairs brain."

Bond smirked, slipping his arms around Q's waist, pulling their bodies flush together. "My upstairs brain completely agrees with whatever my downstairs brain has to say."

"Of course it does," Q sighed, rolling his eyes. "Can you pass me my jacket?"

Bond handed Q his jacket, before going over to his bag, pulling out a small box. "I got you something, by the way… A sort of early Christmas present."

Q stared over at Bond, watching him walk back over, holding out the box.

"You'll still get your proper present tomorrow, but this was… well… for tonight."

Q took the box, gingerly opening it. Inside lay a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like Q's.

"White gold — real white gold. If they're not to your taste you can always attach lasers to them when we get back to headquarters."

Q laughed, pulling James into a tight hug. "They're perfect, James. Although I will probably be spending most of the night explaining them."

"Conversation starter," James smirked, pressing a quick kiss to Q's lips before taking the box back.

"I don't want a conversation starter. I don't want to talk to anyone."

He held out his arms, letting Bond thread the cufflinks through the holes on his shirt.

"It's a party, Q. you have to talk to people."

"Not if I skulk about in the corner, I don't."

"Come on, stop sulking. We have that meet and greet to go to."

Q sighed, quickly checking his appearance in the mirror. "Of course. Are you ready then?"

The meet and greet wasn't as bad as Bond expected it to be; Mrs Holmes hung off his arm, introducing him to various people as "Felix's charming young man", leaving them to chat whilst she went and introduced John to someone. Mycroft, Sherlock, and Q milled about together, ignored by most people who were busy fawning over their partners.

The party finally got started and whilst Bond was paraded around to all the other guests, Q got started on 'Operation: Get Sherlock and John drunk enough to snog under the mistletoe'. James met some nice people whilst being ferried around, dancing with wives and daughters before finally being left to his own devices. He quickly attached himself to Q's side.

"How's everything going?"

"Two vodka martinis in both of them, so far so good."

"Fantastic. How long until drunk?"

"Well, I know for a fact Sherlock has a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance, John I'm not sure. But vodka should do the trick. We just want them to lose their inhibitions around each other, not streak through the house."

"Hello boys, thought I'd join you for a chat."

Q and James looked up, Lestrade awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, looking significantly smarter in his suit. Q smiled, shifting to a better position to include him.

"Lestrade."

"Please, Greg. Sherlock calls me Lestrade. Worked together over five years and he had no idea I was called Greg."

Q chuckled, slipping his arm through James. "He's an insufferable git, he really is."

"I know, but he's the best."

"So uh… what do you think of him and John?"

"Are you asking me if I think anything's… going on?"

"Essentially, yes."

Greg smirked, taking a quick glance over to where Sherlock was sat, glaring at John as he mingled. "I think there is… something. I just don't think they know about it, you know? Sherlock's very possessive of John, hates to share him. Whenever John gets a girlfriend Sherlock always gets… well, angsty. And as for John, he can harp on all he wants about not being gay, he's definitely holding a torch for Sherlock."

Q smirked. "Very good. James and I have a plan to get them drunk and to kiss under the mistletoe, are you in?"

"Oh most definitely!"

"Fantastic. Anything vodka, try not to water it down. With the three of us now it should happen quicker than expected."

Whilst slowly pedaling John and Sherlock with drinks, Bond forced Q to mingle with the guests, keeping his arm firmly around his waist to anchor him by his side. They danced to a few slow numbers, their bodies pressed together as they shuffled slowly around other dancing couples, earning themselves a few adoring looks from people. They had their photo taken by several people, one person shouted that Bond tip Q and kiss him, which Bond did without warning Q first, earning his a slap on the shoulder. They mingled some more until Lestrade quickly hopped over to them, Mycroft hanging on to his arm.

"I'd say John is suitably pissed."

James, Q, and Mycroft looked over to where John was giggling inanely with one of the guests, an empty glass in his hand. Q smirked, glancing over to where Sherlock was being forced to talk to someone.

"I'd say Sherlock's not too far behind. Several more drinks maybe."

Mycroft sighed disapprovingly. "It's not going to work, Felix."

"Of course it will."

"Sherlock won't lose sense of what's happening."

Q rolled his eyes. "John is plastered and obviously has feelings for Sherlock, we make them share one small kiss under the mistletoe and that's the catalyst we need. Sherlock will be begging for more by the time the party's over."

"I think you underestimate our brother's level head."

"I think you underestimate how much Sherlock needs to get laid."

Lestrade chuckled. "He's right, Mycroft. Perhaps once it's all over Sherlock won't be such a crabby git all the time."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, leading Lestrade away. Several drinks later and Sherlock was surprisingly pliant, letting Bond shove him down into a chair to calm down without any derogatory comment. A few moments later, Lestrade helped John over, sitting him beside Sherlock.

"You two need to just sober up before you can rejoin us normal people," Greg sighed, trying his best not to smirk. Sherlock rolled his eyes, slipping down in his seat.

"Perhaps if you didn't keep forcing drinks in my hand."

Mycroft appeared at Lestrade's sighed, feigning mild annoyance. "Are the children in their naughty corner?"

"Indeed they are."

Q suddenly appeared too, a smirk on his face. "You do know you're sat under mistletoe, right? Come on, you know the rules."

Sherlock looked up and scowled at the plant hanging above his head. "Honestly? Was this your plan all along?"

"It worked," Bond smirked.

"Of course it didn't! And I'm not-"

"Oh come on, Sherlock, be a sport!" John grinned, before grabbing his face and mashing their lips together. Sherlock let out a surprised grunt, his hands flailing at his sides as John moved their lips together. Q and Lestrade tried their best to restrain their sniggers, watching the spectacle in front of them. Sherlock's hands finally found John's front, grabbing his jacket collar and forcing their mouths apart. They were flushed red and spit-slick; John had a dazed look on his face as he stared at Sherlock.

"That was… um… quite agreeable," Sherlock muttered, clearing his throat. A small grin slowly spread across John's lips, his hands reaching up to curl around Sherlock's.

"Yeah?

"Yes. Could we-"

He was cut off again as John pulled Sherlock in for another kiss, fingers tangling in each other's clothes and hair.

"This is where we take our leave," Bond mumbled, pulling Q away. Mycroft pulled Lestrade away too, over to Mrs Holmes, pointing out John and Sherlock making out like teenagers in the corner.

* * *

The next morning, Bond woke with only a mild hangover, Q sprawled on the bed next to him, dead to the world. Bond smiled, softly tracing his fingers down the dip of Q's spine, watching him squirm at the touch. His hair was messier than usual, curls of dark hair covering his face which was smushed into the pillow. Pressing a trail of warm kisses down Q's back, Bond delicately slid from the bed and padded through to the bathroom, first checking the coast was clear of any Sherlocks.

When he emerged from his shower, Q had woken up, sitting up in bed, looking around sleepily, one hand lost in his hair. James smiled, walking over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge, leaning over to give his sleepy lover a quick peck on the lips.

"Morning."

Q smiled meekly, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. "Good morning. Did I really drink so much last night?"

"Not as much as John or Sherlock," Bond chuckled. Q smiled, reaching for his glasses.

"Well there's always that… Are you ready for a Holmes family Christmas?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. You go grab a shower."

Q nodded, sliding out of bed and staggering over to the bathroom, having to stop and start and hold on to the doorframe to stop himself keeling over. Bond smiled, wondering if he should help him find his bearings.

They were both soon ready and joined everyone else who was awake downstairs in the kitchen, helping themselves to the lavish spread set out for breakfast. Mycroft was pouring Lestrade a cup of tea, smiling at him admiringly, even though he had butter on his face. James pulled out a chair for Q, Q smiling up at him as he sat himself down.

"Just Sherlock and John to go," Lestrade smirked. Q let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for the tea.

"I do hope all went well."

"I'd like to put a wager on that they slept in the same bed last night," Mycroft grinned, wiping away the fleck of butter from Lestrade's upper lip with his hanky.

"Bit of a pointless wager, we all think the same," Bond smirked, reaching for the coffee. Mycroft hummed, taking a rather large bite of his toast. A while later both Sherlock and John appeared in the kitchen, everyone pointedly not looking at the distinct bruise on Sherlock's neck.

"Good night, boys?" Lestrade asked. John looked up at Lestrade through tired eyes and glared, obvious sporting a hangover from Hell.

"One assumes," Sherlock sighed, plonking himself down beside John. "That waking up with no clothes on with someone else present in your bed, that a good night was indeed had."

"Oh really? So what happened?" Mycroft smirked. Sherlock rolled his eyes, reaching for the tea.

"I can't remember. And even if I could I wouldn't tell you."

"So that lovebite just appeared?"

"Of course not, you're all aware of the events that transpired between John and me last night. We're just not sure to what level they progressed."

"Surely you could deduce," Q chuckled.

"Of course, but it's hardly fitting breakfast conversation, don't you think."

"So uh… where do you and John stand now? I mean… are you… together?" Lestrade asked, lacing his fingers together on the table. Sherlock glanced over to John, letting out a quiet sigh.

"Sherlock and I have decided to… see where this new relationship takes us. Seeing as our attraction was obvious to everyone around us, we see no point in playing this silly game any longer," John replied, finally reaching for some food.

"Well, it's about time," Mycroft smiled. "Never again will we have to sit through the God awful sexual tension you two radiate. I suppose this is a Christmas miracle."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Forever the idiot, Mycroft."

Q nodded. "It more was like a Christmas inevitability."


	5. Man-To-Man

James had found a nice quiet spot on the balcony leading from one of the upper drawing-rooms, overlooking the vast grounds that led away from the Holmes mansion. The air was a bit nippy, but it was dry and not windy, and he'd earned this cigarette. He slumped down in one of the garden chairs on the balcony, propping his feet up the stone wall, sucking in the nicotine, and tar, and other horrible chemicals.

The door behind him creaked open; Bond twisted his head to see who was joining him, letting out a quiet groan when he saw Sherlock staring out in front of him, as if he hadn't noticed James there at all. Neither said a word as Sherlock slowly stepped over to where James was sat, gingerly sitting himself down in the chair beside him.

"Help yourself," James finally mumbled, motioning to the packet of cigarettes lying on the table between them, pulling his lighter from his pocket and placing it beside them. Sherlock did nothing for a few moments, his eyes still fixed on the horizon before reaching out, plucking a cigarette from the packet.

"You've made a serious good impression on people these past few days," Sherlock sighed, whorls of smoke filtering out of his mouth. James shrugged, rolling the cigarette between his fingers and thumb.

"That was the general idea. Whilst I don't particularly care for people opinions on me, it's always nice to be liked."

"I never cared much for being liked, so long as I had people's respect."

James nodded, taking a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke evaporate out into the cold air. "And the love of your family?"

"It's funny, unconditional love. One does absolutely nothing to earn it, but always has it. My being my mother's son does not require her to love me; in fact there are so many cases in which a mother absolutely detests her offspring.

"As for my brothers, well… I do all I can to push them away. I eat away at them, find their limits and then keep pushing, but they'd never abandon me. Mycroft and I never see eye to eye, for over thirty years we've been each other's arch enemy… But he'd always help me."

"And Felix?"

Sherlock quirked a small smile. "The youngest, the smallest, the more innocent… definitely not helpless. I daresay he's helped me more than I've helped him. A lot of people underestimate Felix, myself included. I assume you did too, once?"

Bond nodded. "Our first meeting. He was this small, skinny little thing; his thick glasses, messy hair, and the look of youth. There was no way he could have been quartermaster. He nearly got me killed by a train, did he mention?"

Sherlock smirked. "No, I wish he had."

"Saved my life countless times to make up for it."

"Felix's loyalty is something you should not take for granted, James."

"I don't plan to."

"And in return, you'll show him the same fierce loyalty? You'll do everything in your power to ensure he is safe? I know you're one of the most dangerous men in the country, James, I hope you'll use some of that advantage in taking care of him. And I know he's twenty-four, I'm not mothering him."

James smiled, taking a final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the wall. "I know. I get it, he's your little brother. You love him though you certainly won't show it to him in any conventional methods — I'm assuming Mycroft is the same — and so keeping him safe and alive is your way of showing your appreciation for his existence."

Sherlock's lips twitched. "Very succinct."

"You know I'll take care of him, Sherlock. I'll probably do it a damn sight better than you could, though he may get a few scratches on the way. You know this, yet you give me the big brother speech anyway?"

"Well, I just-"

"This is you giving me your acceptance. You don't like me, you probably never will, but you know that really it's not your choice to make, but it'd make Felix happy if you approved of me."

Sherlock cleared his throat, tapping the ash from the end of his cigarette. "Felix is the important one here; I'm just coming to learn that I'm _not_the centre of the universe."

Bond smiled, stretching his arms above his head. "If I gave you monthly check-ups on how he's doing, would it give you peace of mind?"

"Bi-monthly."

"No ambushing us on our days off."

"Deal."

"On John's behalf, do keep the mould cultures out of the fridge."

Sherlock smirked, taking the final drag of his cigarette and stubbing it out under his foot before walking back into the house.

* * *

**Author's note:  
**I just want to thank you guys so much for reading this and enjoying it and reviewing and everything. I've never written Sherlock fanfiction before and I just gave myself a quick crash-course in the characters and despite my characterisation flaws you all still seem to enjoy it regardless, and just... thank you.

I will be writing more, most likely. I'm totally not done with writing for this wacky combination of people. And I'm definitely not done with squeeing every time I write "Felix", because... come on. Adorable name for an adorable man. I can't help it. So keep an eye out for updates, they will happen... at some point... soon.


	6. A Study in In-Laws

Bond and Q had just arrived home from a long, dull day of paperwork, eager to unwind on the sofa with a stiff drink and crap telly. Bond was fishing the keys from his pocket when Q put a hand on his arm, pointing to the lock.

"Someone's been here," he murmured, pulling his phone from his pocket. Bond squinted at the lock, noticing a few faint scratches around the keyhole, barely noticeable. Q clearly had Sherlock's ability to see things others couldn't.

"Anyone inside?"

Q shook his head. "Whoever it was has gone."

Bond nodded, watching his boyfriend continue to tap at his phone. "What are you doing?"

"Getting someone to take a look, whoever it was clearly knows what they were doing."

"So we're not even going inside?"

"Can't tamper with evidence."

Bond let out a loud sigh and slumped against the wall opposite; Q shot him a quick smile and pocketed his phone. He stepped up to Bond, slipping his arms up around his neck.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Just need to make sure. You're a target, James; as am I, this was bound to happen at some point."

"I just want to put my feet up, and drink heavily."

"Soon. Safety first."

They were waiting for fifteen minutes until there were footsteps coming up the stairs. Bond looked over to the source, groaning and dropping his head back against the wall. Q smirked, stepping away from his lover.

"Thank you for coming, Sherlock" Q smiled, holding out his keys. The older Holmes rolled his eyes, taking the keys.

"I owed you a favour, Felix. Besides, John wouldn't allow me to not help."

Q smiled over at John, who was apologising to Bond for anything Sherlock may say. Sherlock quickly twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Pulling his magnifying glass out, he cautiously stepped in, looking around at everything.

"You could have tidied up a bit, little brother," Sherlock grumbled, fiddling with things. Q rolled his eyes, following Sherlock inside. Bond waited in the corridor with John, choosing to spend as little time in Sherlock's company as possible.

"We lead busy lives, Sherlock, not much time to clean."

"Your intruder is a red-head. Male, probably middle-aged," Sherlock muttered, holding up a hair he'd plucked from the back of the sofa. "With this mess it's hard to tell what was disturbed."

Q pointed to the bookshelf. "I always keep my books in order."

Sherlock smirked, gliding over and staring intently. "Of course. You and Mycroft always had a penchant for keeping your books nice and tidy."

"Books are knowledge, Sherlock."

"To you perhaps."

Sherlock continued gliding around the room muttering, shifting things and holding up potential evidence. Q sat patiently in his armchair, Mayhew purring on his lap.

"You don't have any swabs, do you?"

Sherlock pulled one wordlessly from his coat pocket, tossing it to his younger brother. Q uncapped it and held up Mayhew's paw, squinting at the tinge of red on his claws.

"Mayhew's not normally violent, but it seems he got a swipe at someone," he mumbled, swiping the cotton-bud under the cat's claws.

"It wasn't a deep cut, there's no traces of blood anywhere else in the flat."

"Conclusions?"

"Whoever it was will be back. I suggest you alert whoever you need to alert and don't return for some time."

Q nodded, standing up and passing the swab to Sherlock. "Very well. You have room at yours, don't you?"

Sherlock sighed. "Felix-"

"James and I shall collect our things. Thank you."

Sherlock began spluttering when Mayhew was pressed into his arms, watching as Q began packing some things up, calling Bond inside. John smirked when he saw Sherlock lost for words, holding a fat cat.

"What's the verdict?"

"Intruder will be back; we'll set something up to have them found, meanwhile we're staying with my brother," Q smirked.

"No, Felix! I shan't allow it. There's simply no room! Stay with Mycroft! Stay at a hotel!"

John hit Sherlock's arm, effectively shutting him up. "Of course we're taking them in, Sherlock! This is your brother!"

"Precisely the reason he's not staying!"

"I agree with Sherlock, we can't stay with them," Bond said, folding his arms over his chest. Q and John both rolled their eyes.

"We're going-"

"They're staying."

Bond and Sherlock opened their mouths to argue but were promptly shut up by a stern look from their respective lover.

"The cat's not coming," Sherlock finally announced, a smug look on his face. Q rolled his eyes, ushering Bond to the bedroom to pack some things.

"Of course he's coming," John sighed, taking Mayhew from Sherlock's arms. "And you're going to have to clean your experiments out of the fridge, and keep them away from the food as much as possible."

"My brother and his lapdog are not taking over my home."

"It's _our_home, Sherlock. And they're guests. They won't be around much, they have full-time jobs."

Sherlock sighed loudly, folding his arms over his chest, taking another look around his brother's flat. In the bedroom they could hear Q and Bond bickering about staying.

"I know you're fully capable of fending off intruders, James, but what if you're not here? What if they try and get to us another way? It's just a lot safer to stay with Sherlock."

"From what I've heard from John I really, really don't want to stay with him. He'll poison us."

Q scoffed, sorting the wires from his desk into a case. "Of course he won't. And if he gets too much I'm sure John will take you to the pub. I'll make sure he won't do any of his weird experiments on you."

"Experiments?!"

"Just finish packing and come on. Mycroft is sending someone over soon to bug the flat."

"Mycroft?!"

Q rolled his eyes, finally finished. "I told you. Mycroft basically is the British government. You need something doing instantly you call him. As I'm sure you're aware, he outranks anyone at MI-6."

Bond let out a loud sigh, folding his suits neatly into his case.

Eventually they had everything they needed; Sherlock and John went ahead in their own taxi with Mayhew and some of their cases, James and Q following with the rest of their belongings, Q keeping a tight hold on his laptop. When they got in Sherlock was curled up on the sofa, pointedly ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him.

"James, you go sit down, I'll go get everything sorted," Q smiled, giving Bond a quick peck on his cheek. John smiled meekly at him, Mayhew already comfortable on his knee. Mrs Hudson was puttering around the kitchen making cups of tea.

"Sherlock! Come sort this mess!"

"It's not mess!" Sherlock snapped. John rolled his eyes, scratching behind Mayhew's ears until he purred.

"If he won't sort it just bin it, Mrs Hudson. How many dismembered thumbs can one man need?"

Sherlock jumped from the sofa, glaring at John as he stormed into the kitchen. "Don't touch anything!"

John chuckled, smirking up at Bond. They fell into another awkward silence, listening to Mayhew purr quietly and Sherlock and Mrs Hudson bicker in the kitchen about what could be thrown away. Q eventually returned downstairs, nipping into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from a cupboard and perching himself on the edge of Bond's armchair, passing over the glass and a bottle of scotch he'd brought down.

"May as well start now, he's only going to get worse," he sighed, stroking a hand through James' hair. "John, you don't mind if I tamper with your internet connection, do you? I'm afraid your security's not strong enough for me to do my work."

John shrugged. "Go for it."

"Hang on! You said our connection was perfectly safe!" Sherlock demanded, storming in from the kitchen. Q rolled his eyes.

"Yes, for blogging and googling the effects of injecting salt-water into eyeballs. My work requires something a little more secure."

"By all means, Felix, draw all the world's terrorists to my flat."

"Sherlock you're being childish again, go play with your thumbs."

John grinned as he heard Sherlock huff in annoyance and stomp back into the kitchen, muttering about Q taking after Mycroft. "I think I'm going to enjoy you two being here."

Q smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Bond's head before wandering off upstairs again.

By midnight they'd all gotten settled; Sherlock was sulking in the kitchen still, working on one of his experiments; Q was sat at the table on his laptop working, Mayhew on his lap; James and John were sprawled in their armchairs watching whatever crap the TV had in store for them. James was happily buzzed, on his fourth glass of scotch, mellowed by the awful late-night telly, almost forgetting he was currently sharing a flat with Sherlock Holmes. That was, until Sherlock suddenly shrieked from the kitchen and began making a lot of noise. John didn't seem fazed by it at all, it obviously being a common occurrence. Bond watched with interest as Sherlock glided into the front room, rushing over to the small coffee table and leafing through the pages before pulling one out and rushing back into the kitchen, mumbling things about thumbs and antibodies.

"You get used to that. The best part is when he's in his mind palace, he won't talk for hours, sometimes days," John chuckled. Bond eyed John suspiciously.

"Mind Palace?"

"Oh, don't ask. Just be thankful it keeps him quiet."

"Fair enough... I might go to bed, it's been a long day."

John nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye as Bond wandered over to Q, encasing him in his arms. Q smiled, turning in his seat and pulled James down for a warm kiss, curling his fingers around the back of his head. They murmured softly to each other, John barely able to make out Q promising to be up soon. They shared another loving kiss before Bond left for bed, and Q returned to his work. John frowned, suddenly noticing the absence of affection in his own relationship, wondering how Sherlock react if on his way to bed John wrapped his arms around him. He either wouldn't notice or he'd ask John if something was wrong.

"I think James is on to something; living with Sherlock is a full time job," he said suddenly, pulling himself from his chair. Q looked over and smiled.

"Indeed it is. Goodnight, John."

"Night Felix."

Q looked back down at his laptop, and John shuffled into the kitchen, pausing to watch Sherlock flit from his microscope to his tray of dismembered thumbs to the counter where he was noting things down. He smiled meekly, looking down at the thumbs.

"On to a breakthrough?"

"The experiment's going well, yes. Do you need something?"

"No, just off to bed."

"But it's only... twelve thirteen. Are you okay?" Sherlock frowned, checking his watch. John shrugged, stepping closer to Sherlock, cautiously resting his hands on his narrow hips.

"Just tired, long day, work tomorrow. Will you be joining me tonight?"

"Um..."

"I'd like it if you did."

"Well, I suppose the experiment doesn't need my constant attention. I'll join you soon."

John smiled, raising a hand to stroke through Sherlock's curls. "Thank you."

"Goodnight, John."

"Night Sherlock."

Sherlock allowed himself to be pulled down into a soft kiss, slowly wrapping his arms around his waist. John smiled even wider when they pulled apart.

"I'll um... try not to wake you," Sherlock muttered, stroking his thumbs over John's waist. John nodded, pressing another quick kiss to his lover's lips before walking on through to their room. Sherlock stood rooted to the spot, staring at the door John had just disappeared through before marching into the living room.

"Felix."

"Sherlock."

"Would you and James refrain from being affectionate towards each other in front of John? You're making him all touchy-feely."

Q laughed, quickly glancing over to his brother. "I'm sorry?"

"Your displays of affection are making John jealous. Stop it."

"Perhaps you should be affectionate towards him instead of telling me off for having a normal relationship."

"Normal? Normal's boring."

"Normal works. Get used to John trying to hug you, Sherlock, because I'm not ever going to stop being affectionate with James."

"Could you at least contain it to where John can't see?"

"Nope. Why bother being in love if you can't show it off?"

"Because it sickens those around you."

Q rolled his eyes, still tapping away at his laptop. "You're not moral arbiter, Sherlock. My love sickens you and you alone. Give John a cuddle once in a while and leave me alone."

Sherlock let out an angry sigh and stomped back into the kitchen. Q smirked to himself, finishing off his work so he could go join Bond in bed.

The next morning, Q and Bond were the first people up, milling around the unfamiliar territory getting ready for work. Bond had already had two unfortunate run-ins with the kitchen, trying desperately to just make a cup of tea and not stumble across an autopsied mouse in a margarine tub. Eventually Q had to make the tea whilst Bond slumped on the sofa reading the morning paper. Surprisingly, Sherlock was the next to rise, letting out a disgruntled snort when he remembered his house was still being invaded. He slumped in his armchair, defiantly changing the TV channel from whatever James was watching. When Bond didn't react he stumbled into the kitchen, sitting himself by the table to continue his experiments.

"Could you please put your experiments somewhere that people won't mistake them for everyday kitchen items?" Q sighed, carefully stirring milk into his tea. Sherlock shrugged.

"Meaning?"

"Perhaps a tub labelled 'autopsied mouse' and not 'Flora Spreadable'. That may be a start."

Sherlock smirked to himself, adjusting the eyepiece of his microscope. Q rolled his eyes, taking the tea through to the living room, sitting himself beside James. Bond smiled, lowering his paper to wrap an arm around Q's waist.

"This is positively Hell on Earth," he mumbled, taking his tea. Q laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Bond's temple.

"You'll get used to it. Or he'll get used to it. Either way, it'll stop bothering you soon enough."

Bond sighed, taking a quick sip of his tea. "How long until we can go back home?"

"Just be patient. And hurry up, you've got to go in ten minutes."

"And you don't?"

"Not today. I might work on making Sherlock somewhat more agreeable. Come on, drink your tea."

When Bond was leaving, Sherlock could see through the gap between the door and wall, as Bond pulled Q into his arms, muttering sweet nothings into his neck. Q smiled and laughed as he let himself be pulled this way and that, let himself be pushed against the wall and kissed thoroughly. Bond finally left, with one final kiss to Q's palm and a brilliant smile.

"No work today, Felix?" Sherlock asked, when Q wandered into the kitchen to make another cup of tea.

"Nothing I can't do from here."

"How wonderful, it'll just be the two of us."

"How wonderful indeed. How're the thumbs?"

"Fascinating."

Q smirked, quickly making himself and Sherlock a cup of tea, perching himself on the opposite side of the table, looking through Sherlock's notes. John eventually woke and got himself ready for work, almost dropping his cup of tea when Sherlock appeared behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. Q chuckled into his tea, pointedly not watching Sherlock try his best to be affectionate. John was overjoyed however, practically melting in Sherlock's arms, pressing lazy kisses up his neck, humming happily.

When John left, Q smirked at Sherlock, leaning forward against the table. Sherlock rolled his eyes, getting back to his experiments.

"Whatever you're bursting to say I request you don't say it."

"I told you a small amount of affection would go a long way."

"I said don't say it."

Q chuckled, leafing through Sherlock's notes again. "Did you see how happy John was? How happy a simple cuddle made him?"

"I'm not discussing this with you, Felix."

"Why not? Who else are you going to discuss it with? Mycroft?"

"Certainly not! I shan't be discussing it with anyone, because it doesn't need to be discussed."

"Sherlock, I know your relationship is your own, and unlike most conventional relationships, but at the end of the day, it's still just another relationship. John needs things from you. He needs affection, and attention - and the positive kind, not all attention is good attention, Sherlock. John needs to know he's appreciated."

"He knows, Felix. would you kindly remove your nose from my business?"

Q sighed, leaning forward a little more. "Sherlock, when was the last time you told John you were happy to have him in your life? From a purely selfish point of view - not because of your work, or the fact he's there for you to experiment on. But because he makes you happy?"

Sherlock looked up from his microscope, scowling at his younger brother. "Felix please."

"Seriously, Sherlock. Just defrost that heart of yours a little, let John in."

"Love is dangerous. I thought you knew that."

"I work for MI-6, James goes and gets himself shot at all over the world, why not throw a little love into this danger-cocktail we've got? As for you, since when did you play anything safe?"

"If I gave you some thumbs to analyse, will you please shut up about this?"

"For now," Q laughed, moving around to Sherlock's side of the table.

Bond didn't get used to living with Sherlock at all. As time went on he found more and more disgusting things in the kitchen, so much so he ended up going down to eat his meals with Mrs Hudson. Sherlock didn't stop being himself for one second, and if anything became even harder to live with. Any time Bond was watching the TV, Sherlock marched in and either turned it over or simply switched it off, insisting he needed silence for his experiments.

John and Q tried to make things easier for Bond, knowing that if he truly snapped they'd be down one Holmes and the body would never be recovered. John tried his best to keep Sherlock contained in either the kitchen or their room, he even begged Lestrade to find cases for him, just to keep him occupied. Q just played his part as doting boyfriend to ensure Bond never got too annoyed, crawling onto his lap and distracting him whenever Sherlock was being particularly infuriating.

The only thing that truly changed in the Watson/Holmes flat was the way Sherlock treated John. Being subjected to Q and Bond's overly-affectionate relationship made John crave affection more than ever, and Sherlock became increasingly willing to placate his lover with hugs. One particular evening, Bond and Q were curled up on the sofa, Q's laptop long abandoned as they murmured to each other, trading languid kisses and running their hands over each other. Sherlock noticed the way John was watching them out of the corner of his eye, a morose expression on his face. Sighing, he dropped his paper down onto the table and pulled his chair closer to John, taking his hands in his own, pulling John's attention to him.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock smiled meekly, reaching up to cup John's cheek. "John, please stop comparing our relationship to that of my brother's."

"I-I wasn't."

"I know I'm not particularly affectionate, John, but that doesn't mean I love you any less."

John's eyes lit up at the mention of love, it not being a commonly uttered word from Sherlock.

"You know me, better than anyone else. You know I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, I don't tell people what they mean to me, if they mean anything at all..."

"I get it, Sherlock. We'll never be a normal couple, but... it'd be nice to be one sometimes. To do what they do," he sighed, jerking his head in the direction of Q and Bond. Sherlock sighed too, rubbing his thumbs over the back of John's work-worn hands.

"What do you want from me, John? Do you want us to hold hands when we go out? Do you want me to kiss you in front of everyone so they know you're mine? Do you want us to sit here and make out like teenagers who aren't in control of their hormones?"

"I want all of that, Sherlock. And more. But I'll happily take whatever you're willing to give."

"Even if it's not very much?"

"Even if it's not much."

Sherlock smiled, squeezing John's hands softly. "Thank you."

"Though an unprompted hug wouldn't go amiss once in a while."

"I'll do my best."

John grinned, pulling one of Sherlock's arms up to loop around his neck. "Good. Now give us a kiss."

Sherlock didn't have time to protest as John pulled him in for a warm kiss, curling his arms around his slim waist. He quickly sank into it, slipping his other arm up around John's neck, angling their faces for a better, deeper kiss. John made a low, happy sound, digging his thumb into the skin just under Sherlock's hipbone. They pulled apart when Sherlock's phone went off in his pocket. Glancing over to the sofa, they noticed Bond and Q had disappeared, Sherlock smirking and rolling his eyes as he read the text.

"_**Please don't keep us up all night. Some of us have work in the morning. - Q.**_"

His phone vibrated again.

"_**Also, I **__**did**__** tell you a little affection went a long way. You can thank me later. - Q**_."

The following Saturday, John took Bond to the pub to escape the flat, and to include him on one of his and Lestrade's "lads' nights". Bond was extremely enthusiastic, if just to get away from Sherlock for a few hours and to be able to drink quite heavily. Lestrade greeted him with a firm handshake and huge grin, motioning to the booth he and John usually sat in, two cold pints already waiting for them.

"It's always nice to have a third for these little Sherlock bitch-fests. You're living with him now, James, how is it?"

Bond glared playfully, curling his fingers around his drink. "You've met him, how do you think it is?"

"Is he really still insufferable?"

John nodded, taking a large gulp of his beer. "Even worse. He's doing it just to annoy James, now. But Felix always knows how to piss him off in retaliation."

Bond smirked. "Little brother syndrome, anything he does is bound to piss off Sherlock... It's fantastic."

"It really is! I've never known Sherlock to be silenced so easily, he usually has some form of comeback."

"Oh boy, I've got to see this!" Lestrade chuckled. "Perhaps Felix could join you two on one of your cases." John smirked.

"Make sure Anderson's there. He won't know what's hit him."

The three men laughed, and drank, and discussed Sherlock's bad habits, occasionally throwing in some of Mycroft's and Q's bad habits too. They talked about Sherlock's tendency to hide body parts in strange places and insist it's for an experiment, or how after days and days of bitching, he probably liked Mayhew better than anyone else currently living at 221b.

After quite a few units of alcohol, they moved on from slagging off their respective boyfriends to singing their praise, sighing about the things they loved about them.

Greg talked about the way Mycroft would give him little shoulder rubs after a particularly stressful day, especially if the stressful day had included Sherlock. How Mycroft would sit in his chair by the fire, the TV playing on low, and Greg would sit between his legs as all the day's stress was rubbed away.

John explained how behind closed doors, when Sherlock was finally starting to run on empty he could give a limpet a run for it's money. How Sherlock's gangly arms would be draped all over him, clinging to him, rubbing his cheek against the side of John's head, moaning about being bored. How he was never too hot or too cold.

James discussed how Q was constantly clamouring for his attention, always crawling into his lap and curling up like a cat. How if any part of their body could be touching at any time, it would be, whether it's their feet under the table or their entire bodies being plastered together. He explained how the dangerous nature of their jobs made Q particularly clingy, desperate to spend as much time together, curled up and in love, in case it was their last moment together.

He then went on to explain how his and Q's affectionate relationship had made John jealous, he and Greg laughing at the idea of a remotely affectionate Sherlock; Greg bursting into giggles at the idea of Sherlock desperately needing cuddles whilst at a crime scene, and octopusing himself around John.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Q were having a genius' night in, Q helping Sherlock with his various experiments. Whilst examining the effects of injecting different liquidss into eyeballs, Q pulled out a bottle of vodka, plonking it down on the table before grabbing two glasses.

"They're out getting pissed and I haven't drank properly in a long time. I assume you'll join me?"

Sherlock smirked, reaching over to grab his pen that had rolled away. "I most certainly shall."

"Playing with chemicals whilst intoxicated, surely one shouldn't be able to admit to that _not_being the stupidest thing they've done?"

"When we were born we were given the choice of great intelligence, or common sense."

"Here's to being a fucking genius!"

Sherlock laughed and knocked back the shot of vodka, shaking out the tingle it sent through his body. Q began refilling their glasses, before stabbing the remains of an eye that had been dropped into a beaker of hydrochloric acid.

"Sherlock, the human eye is essentially a mix of gelatinous, plasma-like protein, so any chemical you mix it with, however acidic will always dissolve it. The same with any alkali. The only remotely interchangeable result will be because of the sclera, and even then it doesn't take much to dissolve that either - one-mil of cartilage isn't hard to erode."

"You never were very interested in Chemistry, were you, Felix?"

"Or Biology. And the human eye is such a primitive organ, so full of fault."

"Still bearing a grudge?"

Q snorted, knocking back his drink. "Without my glasses I'm as good as blind, I'll forever hold a grudge."

Sherlock chuckled. "I'll swap you an eye for part of that wonderful eidetic memory of yours."

Q smirked. "Certainly. The moment it becomes physically possible to transplant working brain cells, we'll set a surgery date."

"Fantastic. Then I'll have to stop deleting things."

"Yes, John told me about the solar system gaff."

"No one needs to know if the Earth goes around the Sun."

"I remember, you never were one for Physics, were you."

"Physics is boring."

"Physics is beautiful. Everyone is bound by the laws of physics. Unlike Biology."

Sherlock scoffed. "Biology formed us, Felix. It makes us who we are, what we are. Our genetic makeup, the way our bodies react to light and touch-"

"Boring. The creation of the universe-"

"Even more boring. Stop harping on about the universe and pass me the lemon juice."

Q sighed, pushing the glass forward. "It'll dissolve."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"It will."

James, John, and Greg were halfway to being completely drunk, still giggling about their respective partners. Greg was hunched over the table, laughing about Mycroft's love of cake. John and James didn't get what was funny but laughed along anyway.

"Oh, oh, John! Tell James about you and Sherlock did anything remotely sexual whilst sober!" Lestrade laughed, swirling his beer in his glass. Bond looked over at John, an amused look on his face.

"No, that's not fair. Sherlock wouldn't want me-"

"Piss off, you told me! Come on!"

Bond grinned. "Come on, John."

John sighed, taking a large gulp of his drink. "Fine. But bear in mind he was a virgin before I... Before I well... Had him."

Bond snorted loudly, trying to hide his grin behind his hand. "Really?! How old is he?!"

"Yeah yeah, we don't all need sex to function."

"But sex is... amazing!"

John chuckled. "Yeah he knows that now! And he never had anyone to try it with, because you know... he has such a wonderful personality."

"That's true... Anyway, go on."

"So... um... I'd just gotten his pants off-"

"Oh God, how graphic is this going to be?"

Lestrade began giggling. "Don't worry, James. They don't actually make it to the graphic bits!"

John rolled his eyes, continuing his story. "So we were doing... things, and I'd just gotten his pants off and he was... well... pretty close. I was... um... just abouts to go down on him and..."

Lestrade continued giggling as John trailed off, eventually getting impatient. "Sherlock jizzed in his eye!"

James hunched over the table laughing, Lestrade finding it hard to breathe whilst John sighed, shaking his head. After five minutes of the two men cackling, John had enough.

"It's not that funny, guys. Seriously."

"Are you kidding?! It's hilarious!" Lestrade cried, trying to gulp in deep breaths whilst still cackling. Bond casually wiped a tear that was threatening to fall as he regained his posture, pointedly not looking at John, knowing if he did he'd start laughing again.

"Are you telling me you two don't have any embarrassing stories of your own?"

Lestrade shook his head, finally getting his giggles under control. "Nothing like that!"

"Me neither," Bond shrugged. "Although, there was one time Q and I were going at it in his office and our boss walked in."

Lestrade gaped whilst John began laughing.

"Oh my God, what happened?!"

Bond smirked. "Nothing. Luckily I'm a pain in the arse enough for him to just roll his eyes and tell me he had a case for me when we were finished."

Lestrade began cackling again. "He really didn't care?!"

"Well obviously he cared a little bit. Not enough to punish me. Though Q withholding sex for a week after was punishment enough."

"Come on, Greg, your turn," John chuckled, taking a quick gulp of his beer. Lestrade stared at the wall opposite, deep in thought until he suddenly began giggling to himself.

"Okay, it's not very good because... well... Myc is so proper and always in control of the situation. But um... He's a bit of a screamer in bed, is our Mycroft, and... we'd taken a weekend away and just secluded ourselves in our hotel room and... well, long story short, we got quite a few complaints from reception about us being too loud, and if we weren't respectful to the other guests they'd have to throw us out. I think Mycroft then pulled rank and told them it'd be the last thing they ever did."

Instead of laughing, John stared at his drink like it had personally offended him. "Wow... Really regretting asking now."

Bond laughed, giving John a playful slap on the shoulder. "If I now have to live with knowing Sherlock came in your eye, I'm sure you can live with knowing Mycroft squeals like a pig."

"Not like a pig!" Lestrade argued. "He's just... loud. Anyway, James, you have sex at work?!"

"More often then Q will ever let on. He loves it. He loves the thrill of getting caught."

It was John's turn to gape at Bond. "But... he's so quiet!"

"It's always the quiet ones," Lestrade chuckled. Bond smirked, gulping down the rest of his drink before standing up.

"My round?"

Q and Sherlock had retired from the kitchen and experiments to the living room, sprawled messily on the sofa, giggling and drinking. They'd finished the vodka and come out relatively sober, and had moved on to gin.

"Being taken from behind is just... better."

Sherlock nodded. "I completely agree."

"I mean, it's easier to do anyway. It hits all the right spots..."

"It means I don't have to see John's face when he starts concentrating really hard."

Q smirked. "Is it one of those-"

"Yes. Deep scowl, lines, very angry eyes. It's rather off putting."

"I can imagine. James' face is like that most of the time so it makes no difference to me. My problem is that he sometimes talks in bed. And if there's one thing I can't stand it's talking in the bedroom."

Sherlock giggled. "John does too, sometimes. But he doesn't realise he's doing it; it's usually just a string of swear words."

"Oh no, with James it's full sentences, about how I'm a naughty boy or something. Excuse me, I'm one of the best behaved people in England, maybe even the world!"

"Having sex at work in your office doesn't class as being well behaved."

"So long as our work gets done M doesn't care... Obviously I'm sure he'd prefer if we didn't but... what's he going to do to stop us?"

Sherlock giggled again, taking a quick sip of his drink. The brothers sat in a strange mixture of silence and breathy giggles, thinking of what to say next.

"When John comes, it's like it's the first time ever. He has this... surprised... high-pitched whine..."

Q burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink over himself when Sherlock tried to do an impression before bursting into a fit of giggles himself.

"With James it's like we're in porn; it's like '_God, yeah! That's it! Fuck!_' I have half a mind to just stop everything and leave when he does that."

"You need to train him."

Q sighed. "I know! But how?! I'm usually too busy having a frankly amazing orgasm to try and nip it in the bud."

Sherlock paused, running a finger around the rim of his glass. "Leave it with me, I'll think of something."

"So... have you ever let John tie you up?"

"It's not that I haven't let him, I'm just having a hard time persuading him to do it."

"Compromise. Make a deal; you give him more affection, he strings you up and shags you into next week... Because I have to say: it's fantastic."

"I had a feeling it would be. John's problem is he's too... What's the term?"

"Vanilla. James is the opposite. Sometimes it'd be nice to just... have sex and not fuck in some new kinky way he's come up with... Not that the sex isn't great, because it really is."

"Perhaps whilst they're out talking about us, they'll give each other tips."

Q chuckled. "You know, Sherlock. I never thought I'd see the day where you and I get together and talk sex."

Sherlock smirked. "It's strange. But a good strange."

"It's almost like you're actually human."

"Piss off, Felix."

When John and Bond finally stumbled home, they stopped on the middle of the stairs, shushing each other to hear what Q and Sherlock were saying about them.

"I've seen him, heard him on missions... and the way he is with the women he has to seduce... it's just... different. It's almost clinical. It's the same lines, the same smirk, the same sexual positions! I can tell he's just going through the motions, I know he doesn't truly enjoy it."

"And he's not like that with you?"

"No! I mean, when he's not acting like a porn star he's so... wonderful. He has this smile that you can barely see unless you know it's there. And he smiles with his eyes! Not just his lips. He's always touching me, always letting people know we're together. For someone working in the secret service he's really lousy at actually keeping secrets. I think when I finally agreed to go out with him he ran to the top of the building and screamed it out loud."

"Finally agreed?"

"Oh I'm not that easy, Sherlock! He spent a good couple of months flirting with me."

Sherlock chuckled. "Why did it take so long?"

"He had a reputation. I wanted to know he was genuine. The big hint came when M himself came down to Q branch and told me off for making Bond miserable and to just have go out with him already."

John began chuckling on the stairs, earning himself a sharp elbow in the chest and a scathing look from Bond.

"I must admit, it's nice not having John complain to people when they call us a couple, insisting he's not gay."

"No one believed him for a second."

"Even his girlfriends."

"It doesn't help when you chase them away and drape yourself over him."

"I did no such thing. I just... ensured they'd leave promptly and never come back. They weren't good enough for him anyway. All boring, not even remotely intellectually stimulating."

"But I'm sure they wouldn't leave heads in the fridge."

Sherlock scoffed. "He hates the heads now, but I'm sure if he left me for some boring teacher he'd soon start to miss coming home and wondering what body part he'd find next to the cheese."

Q chuckled. "I know I'm going to miss it when we finally move back."

"I'm going to miss irritating your pet."

"He's going to miss being irritated... I do wish he'd stop lingering on the stairs though."

Sherlock hummed in agreement. "I would have thought he'd be more stealthy. I do hope we're providing enough entertainment for him and John."

John huffed loudly, stomping up the rest of the stairs. "All right, all right. Well done genius', you caught us."

Bond followed, smirking when he noticed the two empty bottles of alcohol and the flush in Q's cheeks. "Have a good night, boys?"

"It was eye-opening for sure," Sherlock smirked, trying to pull himself to his feet.

"My God, are you drunk?!" John asked, rushing to his lover's side.

"We may have had a few drinks, could you help me up?"

Q chuckled, reaching out to take Bond's hand, pulling him down next to him. Bond smiled, wrapping his arms around him protectively. John huffed, finally pulling Sherlock to his feet.

"James, your boyfriend is a bad influence."

"I know. Isn't he wonderful?"

Q smiled brilliantly at Bond, putting his glass down and curling up on Bond's lap; John smiled down at them, dragging Sherlock through the flat to their room.

Bond had a rare day off from MI-6, not entirely thrilled to be spending it in the company of Sherlock, and not in his own flat with just the cat. He hoped that Sherlock would at least be distracted by some experiment, or that Lestrade would call with a case, or Molly would call with an interesting corpse; and that he'd get to slump in front of the TV with a glass of anything alcoholic and a book. He could hear Sherlock making various noises down in the kitchen, obviously having no intention of leaving the flat. Groaning quietly, Bond rolled over and decided to have a few more hours sleep.

He was woken again to a loud clattering downstairs. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face, listening as the clattering continued, wondering how much trouble he'd get into if he finally snapped and punched Sherlock in the face. When he heard Mayhew let out a loud and pained yowl, he decided he'd had enough, throwing the covers from his body. He'd just pulled his trousers on, ready to stomp downstairs when he heard a voice he didn't recognise.

"We've finally got you alone Sherlock. Outnumbered. Your precious doctor isn't here to save you now."

Silently, Bond yanked open his bedside table drawer, pulling out his Walther.

"Yes, well done indeed. Still idiots though, I see."

Two men laughed, Bond was sure he heard Sherlock get punched in the face.

"Do you know what we're going to do to you-"

"You're not going to bore me to death with a monologue, are you? I'm sure you sat up all night practising, but if you're going to kill me can you do it now please? I'd rather not suffer through whatever smug speech you may have prepared for the occasion."

Bond silently tiptoed down the stairs, poised and ready for action in case he was spotted. As he came up to the kitchen door, he could see Sherlock in the living room, tied to a chair, a deep gash on his cheek.

"You'll shut up and listen to what I have to say!"

Sherlock sighed. "Boring. But if I must. There's four of you and one of me, although I do still outnumber you in intelligence. You, in the kitchen by the fridge; it's obvious you don't get much exercise, asthma, heart arrhythmia, slow, you're clearly just a grunt, no real use to you at all. And you walk with a limp to your right, fractured leg, barely healed, it'd be a pity if someone broke it."

Bond smirked, realising what Sherlock was doing.

"As for you, sprawled on the sofa; I daresay you actually have your uses. Small, quick, you brought a knife to a gun fight, you use your speed to your advantage, blindly hoping whoever's pulling the trigger has a bad aim. For your sake I hope they do.

"Man standing four feet in front of me, peak of physical condition, five-ten, I'd estimate about a hundred-and-ninety pounds? Bruised knuckles, a fighter, but you have a gun badly concealed in the back of your jeans just in case.

"And my captor, stood just behind the living room door. Obviously there's no use for you at all, seeing as the most damage you did was kick the cat - that was a mistake by the way. Five-six, hundred-and-twenty pounds, thinning hair, bags under your eyes, your hands are twitching, you're tired. Perhaps you did sit up all night learning your speech. Seeing as you went to so much effort it'd be rude of me to not let you talk."

The flat fell silent for a few moments.

"What was all that about?"

Sherlock shrugged as best he could considering he was tied to a chair. "Free show. Now do go on, what are you going to do to me?"

Bond quickly ran his plan through his head, nodding to himself before silently stalking forwards. He kicked the living room door open, sending one of the men flying across the room, quickly shooting the man sprawled on the sofa in the leg and shoulder. The 'fighter' jumped into action, launching himself at Bond, barely missing as he ducked underneath his arms, hurrying to the kitchen to take out the grunt, kicking him sharply in the right shin, sending him screaming to the floor.

The fighter launched himself at Bond again, this time grabbing his wrist, slamming him against the fridge. They grappled with each other, throwing punches, Bond's gun was sent flying across the kitchen. With a knee to the groin and right hook to the gut and nose, he too finally fell, Bond pulling the gun from the back of his jeans.

The final man had picked up Bond's gun, training it at Sherlock's head, glaring at Bond.

"Who the fuck are you?!"

Bond sighed, wiping his hands on a dish cloth, casually strolling towards the living room.

"Stop! Or I'll blow his head away!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "This is all very boring."

"Shut up! Who are you?!"

Bond shrugged casually, leaning against the doorframe. "No one really. Who are you?"

"No! Tell me who you are! Or Sherlock's brains will be decorating the wall!"

"Mrs Hudson wouldn't appreciate that at all, think of the mess."

Sherlock smirked. The man's hand was visibly shaking.

"Although you'd definitely be doing me a favour. In all honesty, I'm just a bit upset I won't be the one to pull the trigger. Sherlock's a true pain in the arse. You don't find pricks like him nowadays."

"I mean it!"

"Oh I don't doubt that for a second. You go ahead and pull the trigger. In fact, let's have a competition. You shoot, I shoot..."

The man's hand began trembling even more. "What are you talking about?!"

Bond sighed, cocking back the hammer on the gun he'd taken, aiming casually at the mans feet, firing a warning shot, aimed to miss. The man jumped, letting out a startled yelp.

"Now it's your turn."

Scrunching his eyes shut, the gun still aimed at Sherlock's temple, the man pulled the trigger, letting out a confused sound when nothing happened.

"This is becoming increasingly tedious. Can you shoot me already?!" Sherlock sighed. Bond smirked.

"The... the gun's jammed... it's not..."

"It worked fine for me."

Bond took a few strides over to the man, not even blinking when the gun was fired several times at his chest, nothing happening. The gun was snatched from his hand, Bond throwing the other over his shoulder. Still smirking, he aimed the gun down at the man's leg, firing a bullet straight into his thigh, sending him to the floor, screaming and clutching his leg.

"See, there. Works fine."

Sherlock nodded his approval. "Tie them up, James. Ring Lestrade."

Bond nodded. "Will do... Today was supposed to be my day off, too."

He did as instructed, finding a length of rope in one of the kitchen cupboards, tying the men together, gagging them with a strip of duct tape over their mouths. For his own entertainment, he silenced Sherlock too, collapsing down into John's armchair whilst ringing Lestrade.

"Sherlock?"

"It's James, actually, Greg. There's been an incident at the flat, bring some of the finest officers you have, and a van."

"Is Sherlock okay?"

"Sherlock's fine. He's just a bit tied up at the moment. No hurry though, I've got them incapacitated."

"You didn't kill-"

"No, only injured. In your own time. I'll see you later."

He hung up the phone, grinning over at Sherlock. Sherlock glared back, struggling against his bonds, trying to say something that sounded angry but was muffled by the duct tape.

"Today might be a good day yet," Bond grinned, reaching for the TV remote and turning it on before meandering through to the kitchen to make some breakfast. He'd just finished when Lestrade burst in with five policemen, taken aback by the mess of men tied up and bloody.

"James?!"

"You're here. Those four, broke in, tied Sherlock to a chair, tried to bore him to death."

"...Why haven't you untied Sherlock?"

"Why would I? It's my day off, I don't need him ruining it. It wasn't even the thugs that shut him up."

Lestrade took another look around the room, smirking when Sherlock began ranting as best he could, struggling again. "I see your point... I suppose I should ring John, let him know what's happened. Everything else okay?"

"Fine. Fancy some tea?"

"Oh I'd love some."

Sherlock began shouting, struggling even more. Lestrade laughed, following Bond to the kitchen, ruffling Sherlock's hair as he passed.

The quiet of the flat was ruined when John arrived, shouting about the state of everything, pointing out patches of blood and bullet holes. He fussed over Sherlock, seeing to the gash on his cheek, just about to rip the tape from his mouth when Bond's hand clamped over his wrist.

"No. Leave it."

"Are you crazy?! I need to see he's okay!"

Bond rolled his eyes. "He's fine. But most importantly, he's quiet!"

John looked over to Lestrade sat in the kitchen; cup of tea in his hand a large grin on his face. His eyes flicked over to Bond's smirk, before looking at Sherlock, who was desperately trying to glare everyone to death.

"I can't leave him-"

"You can. You really can."

John frowned, his fingers twitching indecisively. "It'll just be worse the longer you leave it."

"I'm very willing to deal with the consequences. Just think about this for a minute..."

John looked between the two men before sighing and reaching for the duct tape. "You're not the one who'll get shouted and you're not the one who'll miss out on sex."

Bond sighed as John tore the duct tape from Sherlock's mouth, slinking back into the kitchen as Sherlock began his rant.

"It was nice whilst it lasted," Lestrade muttered. Bond nodded, staring down at his cup of tea. Sherlock was untied and Lestrade and Bond were scolded for leaving him bound and gagged.

"You're welcome for me saving your life," Bond sighed, staring up at Sherlock blankly. Sherlock stopped ranting, staring back at Bond with a blank look of his own.

"Thank you, James, for saving Sherlock. He's very grateful," John said, elbowing Sherlock in the arm. Sherlock nodded.

"Thank you."

Bond shrugged. "I don't want to see Q or John sad over your death... And if anyone kills you, it's going to be me."

"I think you'll have to get in line, John's expressed a wish to be my cause of death."

John smirked. "He's right. Anyway, I need to get back to work... Don't you have a job to be doing, Greg?"

Lestrade sighed. "Yeah... I'll drop you off. See you James. Sherlock."

Once John and Lestrade had left, Sherlock gingerly sat himself down opposite Bond, watching him analytically.

"...Thank you, James. Honestly. I can't... begin to think how it would affect John if I died... You are indeed, very noble and... Felix is lucky to have you."

"Is this you giving me your approval? ...Again?"

"This is me... Apologising... for being intolerable. And perhaps even express a wish to... befriend you?"

Bond's eyes widened. "Oh really?"

"My talk with my brother was eye opening, to say the least. You make him happy, which automatically wins you my approval. But he speaks so highly of you; in his eyes you can do no wrong. It's obvious how much he loves you, and how much you love him too. John spoke with me, about the things you told him when you went drinking together. He told me what you said about Felix... about how much you... you need him in your life. It's obvious you'd never hurt him. I trust you with him.

"As for your relationship with John... He needs more friends. I'm a lot to deal with and he needs an escape. I'm glad it's you he's found a friend in."

Bond smiled. "Honestly Sherlock, you're not all too bad. I'm not saying you're not an arsehole, because you are... but you're Q's... Felix's big brother, and I know he won't admit it but he looks up to you; having your approval is a pretty big deal, and I'm glad I have it. As for being your friend, I think both John and Felix will be thrilled by it."

"Well, I've spoken enough today."

Sherlock suddenly rushed from the kitchen to his room, the door slamming shut behind him. Bond smirked, deciding to go watch some TV in peace.

That evening, John and Sherlock were curled up on the sofa together, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. Bond was sat in Sherlock's armchair, not paying attention to the TV, his hand lost in Q's hair who was sat between his legs on the floor, tapping at his laptop.

"I told you living with them wouldn't be so bad after a while," Q muttered, dropping his head back to smile up at Bond. Bond smiled, stroking his fingers over his lover's cheek.

"It only took four men breaking in and attempting to kill your brother for us to find some middle ground."

"Well, you know how Sherlock is, he does detest normality."

"How are we going to get back to normal when we go back?"

"I'll hide body parts in the kitchen once in a while."

Bond laughed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Q's lips. "Don't you dare."


End file.
